


Learning to Dance

by purplerhino



Series: Learning Universe [1]
Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 31,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplerhino/pseuds/purplerhino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was all too aware of each step, counting in her head. Learning to Dance, learning to fight, learning to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Basic Forward

**Author's Note:**

> This series started as a couple of one shots that developed a life of their own.

The first dance DG learned in the O.Z. wasn’t really a dance at all, not one for any dance floor. It was one designed to put your partner permanently down. Glitch was teaching her this form of dance at her insistence. One which could get them both into trouble.   The violent, dangerous, yet oddly beautiful ballet of destruction she’d only heard he knew in retelling of their individual stories.   DG never wanted to be helpless again, relying on sticks, flailing and kicking out randomly. Those defensive dance lessons were taught in an unused storage area of the palace.   
   
Glitch announced she had perfect rhythm, but a short reach. Adjustments had to be made. The dressing dummies were beginning to look more than a bit battered as they had been drafted as targets. While hardly proficient yet, DG was more confident she could handle herself better in a scuffle.   
   
The first REAL dance DG learned in the O.Z. was a waltz. She had an overly stuffy, starched and pompous dancing instructor for that. He had a huge, carefully waxed handlebar mustache but had not a strand of hair on his head.   Lord Kildride was an excellent and exacting dancing instructor, very proper and without an ounce of humor. DG referred to him as Lord Killjoy.  
   
She was thankful that Glitch usually ended their ‘dancing’ lessons with a practice twirl about the temporary gym room.  Her best friend was hardly stuffy, or formal, although he occasionally remembered how to be.   
   
Shifting from learning a spinning kick to practicing a waltz right after was actually easy. After all, she’d already exerted herself and the waltz was a good way of winding down.  
   
Glitch had yet to be restored. It was going to take a great deal of research and a collection of the best experts in the O.Z. to even contemplate rejoining both halves of his brain. But he seemed happy enough knowing all was being done.    
   
DG was selfishly glad for the delay. She didn’t know if she would loose one of her best friends when he became Ambrose once more. Would he be as outspoken? Fun? Occasionally goofy? Then she felt a great wellspring of guilt. Because he’d remember, his synapses wouldn’t misfire, he’d be what he wanted, not what she was used to.  
   
“Doll, if my toes are any indication, your mind isn’t on dancing,” Glitch pulled back from their proper dancing frame, releasing her hand. “Even I’m not as empty headed as you seem to be right now. If you want to call it quits that’s alright with me. I think the mice want their attic back for the day.”  
   
DG smiled and shook her head at her friend. “Do you have any idea how scary this celebration ball… thing is? Facing a witch, stopping the destruction of the O.Z with my friends, saving my sister…” she snapped her fingers, “like that. Facing a room full of stuffed up strangers judging my every move, and having to dance while doing it? I want to hide in the closet.”  
   
“The closet in the third guest room in the east wing is really big. You could hide in there for days. Until you got hungry. Or needed to use the bathroom,” He seemed to be considering. “But you’d last longer if you actually hid in a bathroom. The door locks, you’d have water and facilities. If you brought some fruit you’d be set.”  
   
DG laughed. He was showing her how silly she was being. She hoped. He could be entirely serious.  
   
“Yeah, but everyone’s expecting me to be there. And it’s supposed to be in honor of everyone… So I’ll have to swallow my fear and jump off that cliff,” DG stood slouched, clearly unhappy.  
   
“The only expectations you have to live up to is your own, “ He insisted. “But it would be nice for you to be there.”  
   
“Ah. Guilt trip after the words of self sufficiency. Very sneaky.  I’ll be there, and I’ll work on my waltz. Just don’t expect me to learn any other dances. We only have two weeks and I might kill Killjoy yet,” DG hooked her arm in Glitches and tugged him to the door. "Do you think a dance instructor has ever been trampled to death by his student?"  
   
A good humored snort left him. “You’re a quick study. You’ll be just fine.   And now you can also kick the fecal matter out of anyone who gets frisky,” Glitch looked rather pleased by that.  
   
\-----  
   
The Celebration had somehow gotten to be somewhere between tedious and fascinating. There was the pungent smell of the buffet, too many perfumed and pomaded courtiers. That only got worse as the night wore on as dancing worked up perspiration. It was not an aroma DG was likely to forget.    
   
At least she could smell it. She absolutely refused to wear a corset. She decided to start an royalty underwear revolution in the O.Z. and told the seamstresses to replicate her over worn bra. One small step for feminine comfort one giant leap for womankind.  
   
The hall itself sparkled. The marble floor shone, and she wondered if that was why ball gowns were floor length. So none of the men could get a quick thrill by looking down. Maybe someone should tell the cleaning staff that the polished bit wasn’t really a good idea. Between magic and candles the whole place was brightly lit, and everyone was talking.   
   
Some of the laughter was forced. People were uncertain about a lot of things. One of which sat beside DG on a dais two steps lower than the one their parents sat enthroned upon. Well, their mother was the one enthroned really. Dad was kinda seated on a smaller semi-throne. DG didn’t stay seated long. She moved quickly to her friends. One was conspicuous in his absence.  
   
“Where’s Cain?” DG half hissed at poor Glitch and RAW. 

Raw looked as jittery as DG felt, poor guy. There had to be too many emotions pressing in on him.  
   
“He get here an hour ago. Trouble on road,” Raw spoke up.  
   
Why Cain had to personally lead a contingent to go out and help the little turkeys on bungee cords fend off some remaining longcoat groups she didn’t know. Yeah, she did. Duty. Damn.  
   
DG was just about danced out. She had to have danced with at least two dozen men and boys as well as with her father. But she had not danced with the one person she had really been hoping she would dance with.   
   
Her sister’s dance partners were more limited in number. Azkadellia had danced with each of DG’s friends, her father, and Jeb Cain. The latter was actually rather nice, in a making a point way. Then DG and Az scandalized most of the people present by taking each other’s hands and dancing together. Az led, as she was much better at it. The two of them had the most fun with that. It was one of the rare times, lately, that Azkadellia had laughed freely.  
   
All night DG had danced well enough, but she was all too aware of each step, counting in her head. She sometimes missed parts of conversations so intent was she on not falling on her behind.   
   
“You’re too stiff,” Glitch tried to whisper out of the side of his mouth, but he was a little too loud for an actual whisper.  
   
“I’m tired, my feet hurt and people keep staring at me. Of course I’m stiff,” DG half growled as she counted out the steps as Glitch moved them smoothly. She was also annoyed that Cain had not shown up at the celebration after all. It wasn’t fair. SHE had to attend.   
   
There was a tap on Glitch’s shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?”  
   
DG grinned so wide she half feared her face might split in two. Cain had finally arrived. And he looked good. Not that he didn’t always. She had come to adore the scent of leather, which was kinda on the scary side in a 'is this kinky' kinda way.   Tonight he wore a black shirt and silver-grey vest. His nicely tailored pants were grey was well. He still had that western look, but it was polished. He most likely hated it.  
   
“Not at all, do you Glitch?” DG turned to her friend.  
   
Glitch backed off. “No need to tell me to get lost twice. Have fun, kids.”  
   
“You look… nice,” Cain placed a hand at DG’s waist as Glitch crossed the hall. The warmth of his palm burned through the dark blue silk as he spun her out into the dance.  
   
“Don’t clean up too bad yourself.” She smirked up at him. Her arched eyebrow screamed Where the hell have you been?  
   
She noticed that there was definitely a scandalous lack of space between them. Every once in a while she could feel herself brush against him, making her stomach flutter and nerves jangle. Killjoy would be shocked if her dance with Az hadn’t caused him to faint already.  
   
“You save any Longcoats from the midgets?” DG kept her eyes locked with his. She’d never seen eyes quite like. So pale, yet sometimes the only place she could read him.  
   
He scoffed. “Just about. By the time we got there the Munchkins had them surrounded and were throwing really big logs on ropes at them.”  
   
“Why am I not surprised they’d go ewok on the Longcoats asses?” DG smirked.  
   
Cain looked puzzled. “Sometimes you make absoluetely no sense.”  
   
“I make perfect sense. You just don’t understand me,” DG felt her heart actually skip a beat when the hand at her waist pulled her a little closer. Yep, definitely touching. Made her a bit dizzy, and oddly breathless, actually.   She couldn’t even blame a corset. Did he even realize he was doing it?  
   
“I may never understand you,” he admitted. There was an odd light in his eyes. Teasing, playful, like there was a shared joke here. Oh my! He did know. He so totally knew.  
   
DG had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat. Was this real?  
   
“Well here’s to trying to find out, then,” she smiled brightly.  
   
She hadn’t realized until then that she hadn’t once thought of her steps or counted in her head from the moment Wyatt Cain laid his hand on her waist and took her hand.   She had let herself go. Maybe all she needed with the right partner.   
   
Maybe she could learn to dance.  
   
 


	2. Dressage

DG had grown up in Kansas on a farm. She rode a motorcycle daily. None of these facts made this particular lesson any easier. Mostly because the horse was out to get her.

Prior to racing madly across the O.Z. to get from the mausoleum of rulers to the Great Machine, DG had never been on a horse. Not even at the fair. The carousel didn’t count. The carousel horse didn’t start out the ride by trying to take a bite out of her shoulder. 

Okay, apple-scented shampoo was not the best choice this morning.

Damn that bite hurt. REALLY hurt. After inspecting her shoulder for broken skin she found a dark purple bruise already forming. She grabbed the lead of the offending animal and looked up into its dark eyes. 

“Look here, buster, I am not munchies. Keep it up and you’re name will be changing to Elmer.”

“Elmer?” Wyatt Cain looked at her with that puzzled expression he was wearing more and more often. 

“A brand of glue on the other side. You know sarcasm loses something when you have to explain it,” DG moved to the side to let Wyatt inspect her saddle. 

Evidently all Tin Men had to be able to ride. She knew he could also drive. Cain insisted she learn the saddle and tack, and how to take care of her own mount. He’d demonstrated and watched while she followed suit. He nodded and only stopped to tighten the saddle cinch. She was surprised to see him lightly punch the horse before pulling it tighter. 

“They’re not dumb. He was tightened up so the cinch wouldn’t get too snug. A good smack makes ‘em behave,” he explained.

“I’d complain to the O.Z. chapter of the SPCA , but there isn’t one. Besides, I’m still holding a grudge.” She rubbed her shoulder. He was giving her that puzzled look again. “Society for the Protection from Cruelty to Animals. It enforces laws against animal abuse. It tries to ensure people don’t light cats on fire, or torture puppies, or do unspeakable things with hamsters.” 

“It seems cruelty is universal then. But giving your horse a light punch doesn’t hurt them. Now a full-on punch is another story, and you’d risk a well-deserved kick in return,” Cain crossed to his own animal. “You need me to explain how you mount up?”

DG watched him step up and hook his left foot in the stirrup, then stand on that leg and swing his right leg over the back of his horse.

“I think I can do that,” she imitated him. 

Oh hell, the horse was just as wide as she remembered from the ride o’ terror. After the whole "saving the O.Z. and Azkedellia" thing, every part of her body hurt. The adrenaline had masked it, so her hips and inner thighs took a week to feel normal. Longer even than her shoulders and fingers from her high wire without the wire act.

“Do we have a skinnier horse?” DG asked hopefully.

Cain smirked. “You get used to it.”

“Been a while since I had something this big between my thighs,” she looked sidelong at her companion.

Cain was so easy. His coloring leant to brilliant blushes against his cheeks and nose, right up his ears. He coughed into his hand and made a point of looking into the forest before choosing to ignore her comment. 

“We’ll start at a walk, this time,” he announced.

“Thank you, God,” she looked to the heavens.

DG was only too aware that the trail they were following had been ‘swept’ by a dozen men earlier and there were guards posted at random throughout the wooded area. It felt odd to have so many people seeing to her safety. 

However, there were still pockets of Longcoats out there, as well as other problems. Like small numbers of resistance troops who were demanding Azkadellia be put to death for her crimes. Proving possession to the general public had been easier than they thought, thanks to the Viewers. But there were those who still refused to listen or believe. Those who needed someone living to blame and take their anger out on.

“You know, on the Other Side, you can teach horses to dance. It’s called dressage. They prance to music, go sideways, even spin,” DG tried to guide her horse; he didn’t come with power steering. However, Cain had picked a (supposedly) docile gelding. She couldn’t even threaten the thing with neutering when it tested it's limits.

“You want to dance with your horse?” He looked not so much puzzled as incredulous.

“Oh, wouldn’t Killjoy just love that. The shoes might chip the marble floor,” She was grinning at the mental picture of performing a dressage exhibition at the next formal dance. Her in a ball gown, the horse with a bow tie, maybe a top hat. 

She had to chuckle. “I can barely get my horse to go forward, let alone sideways. I think I’ll skip the dancing.” 

“You’re doing fine,” he assured her. 

They rode in comfortable silence for a good half hour. Her legs were starting to chafe, but she’d be damned if she’d complain and seem the wimp. She eventually stopped sneaking glances at Cain long enough to take in the woods. The sunlight through the leaves dappled the ground and pollen floated, making the light seem to sparkle. 

She could hear the birdsong; a woodpecker in the distance, the small skittering of squirrels or chipmunks.

The forest was also full of rich smells. Loam, green growing things, a bit of mustiness and moss. Oh, ewww… roadapple.

She looked behind her. “At least it’s recyclable.”

Suddenly, her horse reared up. Without a clue as to how to compensate, she slid right down the animal's back and landed on the road with a bruising jar up her spine. She curled to cover her head as Elmer stomped and kicked before starting to race off down the road.

Cain was already dismounted and reaching for her when the real attack hit. Six men wearing camouflage cloaks rushed them. Two held a net trying to snare them.

Cain had his gun in hand in an instant and kneecapped the closest attacker. DG twirled to the side as the net boys approached. She made a crouching sweep with her leg, knocking the nearest one’s feet out from under him and tangling him in his own net.

Unfortunately, her foot also hit the netting and she had to pause to tug free. This allowed one of the men to close in. She punched him hard in the throat, sending him to the ground, choking and gasping.

Wyatt had a second one down from a punch to the temple and was blocking an attack from the fifth assailant. 

Weren’t there six? Shit.

She found out where the sixth was when an arm circled her chest and she felt the cold bite of a blade against her throat.

“Stand down or she dies.” The voice was too close to her ear, harsh and grating. He was also lacking in the hygiene department.

The knife was actually pressing into her skin - she felt a trail of wet warmth trickle down her skin, cooling quickly. She knew when to freeze like a good hostage.

Cain froze as well. The man he was fighting took the opportunity to punch him in the jaw. DG winced.

“Miles, get the Tin Man’s horse,” the voice in her ear ordered.

DG didn’t have time to register two gunshots in rapid succession before the third whizzed past her head. Something wet speckled the side of her face as the arm around her chest dropped, as did the knife hand, cutting a slash into her shirt and a shallow cut at her rib cage.

She turned to see her captor laying in a heap beside her, a bullet hole in his temple. Cain stood in the road with his gun smoking in hand. 

The man who had been fighting Cain was down as well, hit twice from behind by the guards already rushing into the area. They set to collecting the downed and wounded first while their captain approached.

“Your highness, Sir; we came at the first gunshot. This area was supposed to have been cleared just an hour ago,” the uniformed man somehow managed to look both angry and contrite at the same time.

“Get together the men who did the sweep. I want to talk to whoever did this sector,” Cain’s voice was cold, his whole carriage stiff with tension.

“Yes, sir,” the officer didn’t snap to attention. Soldiers weren’t technically under the command of a former Tin Man, but it seemed, in the past months that the security staff all deferred to him. And when DG got over the shock, she’d ask about that.

Elmer was within sight, having fallen over in the road, a dart sticking out of his neck. The horse was still breathing and DG hoped he’d be alright.

Without her own horse, she found herself riding in front of Cain and at a much faster rate as they returned to the castle stables. His arm was around her middle and he was pressed against her back. She knew it was a protective position and if it weren't so uncomfortable with the saddle horn trying to merge with her navel she might have enjoyed the full length contact..

Back under the cover of the stable, the air redolent with the scent of horses and cut hay, DG had finally calmed down. All in all, she thought she had handled herself pretty well.

Wyatt helped her down as a stable boy hurried to lead the horse away. He seemed shocked at the sight of them. DG had not yet realized she was splattered with her captor's blood.

Without knowing how she had gotten there, DG found herself with her back against the wall. The fingers of Cain’s left hand were under her chin, gently lifting and tilting her head as the chill fingers of his other hand ran lightly over the cut along her neck. She shivered, and not from the cold of his hands.

“So close,” he half-murmured.

Then his hand left her chin, his fingers tracing under the cut in her shirt, ghosting over her skin, along the shallow cut there. 

Their eyes locked and she could see a world full of emotions. Anger, fear, regret, longing. Longing?

Then he was kissing her. His lips were warm in contrast to his hands; slightly chapped, but firm. DG gripped his sides under his overcoat. She didn’t know where else to hang on. She tilted her head back and felt his tongue tease at her bottom lip. She couldn’t contain the groan that welled up from somewhere below her heart.

He seemed to take that as encouragement and she felt herself being pulled in closer; his arm banding around her waist so she could feel his warmth through their clothing. He was cupping the back of her head, as if afraid she were planning on pulling away. The thought never crossed her mind.

And just like that, his tongue slipped in to introduce itself to hers. They got along, so she invited it in to stay awhile. He tasted of coffee and apple, and there was a bitter undercurrent of fear, which she tried to sooth away.

It seemed forever, and yet not long enough, before he pulled away so they both could breathe. Now, his pale eyes were heavy with something new. She was pretty sure her own eyes were answering in kind.

“You’ve been taking lessons from Glitch.” It wasn’t what she expected him to say at that moment.

“Hey I never kissed him. And if you have… well, there are some things I just don’t want to know,” DG answered back.

“You know what I mean. Nice leg sweep by the way,” He smiled slightly.

“Thanks. Nice right hook. Down in one. Pretty good. Why do the security staff take orders from you?” She tilted her head.

“Oh… that.”

“Yeah.” 

Then he was kissing her again and that fluttery feeling in her stomach seemed to tighten and coil into something else. Eventually, she would tell him that it wouldn’t distract her. Much. For long.

Oh, what was the question again?


	3. 2.5 :Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azkadellia no longer wore makeup. She didn’t want to show a flawless appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter added later. There are a few 'flashback' type chapters.  
> Thanks to my beta readers - erinm_4600, thebigfatman and Khadence

Today Marlene- her ladies maid - dropped the tea service and shattered the pot. The tea splashed the hem of Azkadellia’s dark green skirts. Marlene looked at her with such raw terror in her eyes.

Azkadellia sat for an hour, looking into her vanity mirror. She examined every feature, every fine line, but she never met her own eyes. She couldn’t. She was terrified who she’d see staring back at her. What if it wasn’t her?

Now, she examined her face, looking for a sign of the witch; yet, still unable to look at her own eyes. It was irrational, she knew this. Knowing it didn’t stop it. She just couldn’t. It was as if she were physically incapable.

Azkadellia no longer wore makeup. She didn’t want to show a flawless appearance. She knew that under her eyes were occasionally shadowed, and tiny lines of tension formed at the corners of her mouth. She wore demure clothing, partly in shame of how much the witch liked to reveal, partly to keep herself separate.

Occasionally, she would feel like herself. Like Azkadellia. At these times she had no thoughts but for the moment. Usually such times were around her family, especially around her sister. 

Little DG’s friends had been a strain, at first. They were always looking, seeking the slightest sign of duplicity or plotting. They looked at her and saw only the witch. But, over the months, they seemed to learn who Azkadellia was. Az. DG must have talked to them, begged them to give her a chance. Az wasn’t a fool, but, these days, their easy acceptance of her was a great help, and they had become her friends, as well. Possibly, her only friends. However, occasionally, she said or did something awkward, or something happened where they would look at her, judging her by her reactions.

It clawed at her, as much as the emptiness inside her mind did. Once, she had no control of her actions, her mind. She was a shadow, with only a monster to talk to. She could only watch in horror at what was done with her body. Over time, she ceased fighting; became numb- it was that, or give over to madness. She had just ceased to care. All that mattered was keeping her own consciousness alive. 

DG had changed that; called her out, made her want to fight once more. 

She sometimes wondered if she weren’t better off having died with the witch.

People avoided her at the celebration in honor of the heroes of the Eclipse. It was not surprising, but it didn’t stop the hurt. Even DG was swept away to dance with so many, leaving her alone. Glitch and Raw had asked her to dance, taking her out onto the floor several times each. Her father danced with her. And handsome young Jeb, Wyatt Cain’s son, had nervously asked her for a dance. She had almost cried at that, but was so grateful for his kindness because she knew he had wanted her dead -with such good reason- not three months before. She didn’t even care if it was for her family’s sake, or his father’s. Even if it were duty, as he was now part of the palace guard, it didn’t matter. The simple contact was a wonder. 

And then, then she had danced with DG. It was unheard of, two women waltzing together. It was shocking. Her sister had grinned at her and winked. Azkadellia had laughed from the joy of that moment. That single moment.

Yet the maid had one slip and was terrified of Azkadellia. There had to be something of the witch still there to evoke that terror. In the mirror she looked at her lack of makeup; her high-necked gown of dark green cotton. None of it was the witch’s. But, there. The hair. It wasn’t elaborate, just braided back, long and black. SHE had liked the silky blackness, the seduction of flowing locks.

Azkadellia went into the vanity drawer, where her hidden box lay. Her relief, and her punishment. Opening the plain wooden box, she removed the simple dagger, which caught the light on it’s razor edge. With a single flash, she cut off the braid at the base. The short hair, released from the confining weave, fell forward, a bit longer than her chin.

She threw the braid on the floor and reached for a handful of hair. Still too long. Still HERS. She cut, freeing herself with each slice, feeling bits of the witch fall away with her locks.

But, when she was done, an uneven mass of too-short hair left, she still felt her inside. 

Azkadellia looked at the hand holding the knife. She’d used it before. She was slowly paying in her own blood for each soul the witch had stolen. Neat rows of scars and scabs lined her thighs and upper arms. But had she really bled red?

She couldn’t remember. Maybe the witch was still inside. The knife flashed again.

She heard pounding on the doors to her rooms. Raw was roaring somewhere far away. Az looked at the bright blood; It was red, not black. Not the ichor the creature had melted into. It washed away the pain inside with the sting of real, physical pain. She sliced again, and again.

The banging on her door became so loud, it seemed to match her heartbeat in her ears.

Then there were arms around her, and she looked up into the mirror to see Raw hugging her from behind, tears streaming down his face.

“Stop. Please stop. It hurts too much. You hurt too much.”

Azkadellia looked down at her arms, the flow of blood mixing with the strands of her butchered hair. “It's supposed to hurt. I’m supposed to hurt. I’m sorry I hurt you, though.”

Jeb Cain was taking the blade from her hand and barking orders for the physicians, and for someone to get DG. Why?

Then while Raw held her from behind, rocking slightly from side to side, young Jeb returned from her bathroom and pressed a towel to her deepest cut.

“Of all the stupid things to do…”

“Stop. Anger not help. Fear not help. DG help. Az not always think clear anymore,” Raw scolded the younger Cain.

“I’m thinking clearly.” Az laughed. “I’m thinking for myself. Me. All me. I’m me.”


	4. 3: Back and Forth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am going to retire to my room, where I will commence to beat my head against the wall until I’m unconscious.

DG was pacing back and forth in front of the table.  
   
“I can’t believe no one bothered to tell me you were in charge of my family’s security! I mean, that’s kind of an important subject. It isn’t even that hard to come out and say, either.”  
   
The table was on a balcony overlooking an amazing vista, four people seated around it.  
   
DG’s sister, Azkadellia, was picking apart a muffin; apparently, saving the top part for last. She looked vastly different from six months prior: She wore no makeup and her hair was short. VERY short. She’d taken a knife to it one night after the celebration ball, and only DG’s sketches of a ‘pixie’ cut saved the hairdressers from yanking their own hair out. As it was, they were mortified, but not as much as the family. Az had also slashed across her arms with a knife to see if she still bled, or if the witch would come pouring out. She was having trouble dealing with so much. The long sleeves of her plain, grey dress covered the bandages and older scars of previous slicing no one had noticed. They were watching now.

Next to Azkadellia sat Raw, who seemed to soothe Az, even if her sudden shifts of posttraumatic stress upset him greatly. It was he who had felt Az’s pain and who helped to stop her slicing on her self. He volunteered to stay with her and help with everyone’s healing.  His leonine features were currently twisted with amusement as he nibbled on a piece of melon.  
   
Next in the breakfast line up was Glitch.  Glitch stared at the soft boiled egg in front of him, top open, spoon in hand. “There is just something so wrong with this.” He muttered under his breath and seemed unable to stick the spoon into the egg.  “I used to like these.”  
   
“No, you didn’t.” Azkadellia poured herself a cup of tea.  
   
“I didn’t?” Glitch looked at her, his eyes hopeful.  
   
“Nope. You always said they were slimy and pretentious. That was supposed to be mine. I’m eating your muffin since you grabbed my egg.” Az popped a bit of muffin into her mouth.  
   
“Is anyone even listening to me?” DG looked at the table’s occupants.  
   
“DG upset Cain has new job,” Raw proved his attentiveness before returning to his melon.  
   
“I’m not upset Cain has a new job.” DG looked at the man whose current employment was the issue.  
   
Cain just sat there, drinking his coffee. “She’s upset I didn’t tell her.”  
   
“Is she always like this?” Glitch leaned across Raw as he asked Az, as if he hadn’t been DG’s best friend for six months.  
    
“Lately, yes. And they call me moody. You’d think she didn’t want him around all the time.” Az switched her teacup with Glitch’s coffee. Glitch REALLY shouldn’t be allowed to have coffee.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me?” DG was trying to ignore the commentary from the others.

“Because I had just accepted the job the day before. I planned on telling you while we were out riding, but something came up.” He didn’t seem upset, and considering his penchant for teeth-grinding and sullen introspection - also known as getting broody - his laid-back reaction was making DG look downright huffy.

“I thought you might have stayed around here because of… oh, never mind.” DG grabbed a piece of toast and began to stab it into her own egg.

“The pay couldn’t be beat. The side benefits are amazing and I’d most likely find kicking in doors in Central City outright boring after trailing after you for a while.” Cain poured himself a second cup of coffee.

DG glared at him.

“I’m missing something in this conversation, aren’t I?” Glitch looked from Raw to Azkadellia.

“Most likely. But it’s alright. Now eat your egg.” Az licked crumbs off her fingers.

“I used to like these,” He paused before digging in, looking past the opened eggshell and then at his spoon. “There’s just something so wrong with this.”

DG sighed. “You don’t like it, don’t eat it.” 

She snatched up the top part of Az’s muffin and placed it beside the egg cup.

“Hey, that’s the best part.” Her sister reached to retrieve the purloined baked good.

“He hasn’t touched the egg, it’s what you asked for. Eat the damned thing. Is this breakfast or pre-school?” DG scowled.

“You tell me, kid,” Cain arched a brow.

“Can I have my egg back, please?” Azkadellia took the egg that was passed to her.

Glitch looked at his muffin top. “Hey, you ate half of this.”

DG stood up, breakfast forgotten. “I’m going to retire to my room, where I will commence to beat my head against the wall until I’m unconscious. Good morning, everyone.”

As she walked away, she heard Cain call after her: “Make sure you knock some sense in there while you’re at it.”  
   
A half hour later DG was not in her room, but sitting on a retaining wall in the East garden. She had a book in her lap. All that talk about pay and benefits made her wonder what the exchange rates were in the O.Z. Was Platinum closer to a dollar or a hundred dollars? She’d never had to worry about that here.

A hat rudely interrupted her reading by landing on the words.

“Go away, I’m trying to ignore you.” She picked up the hat and held it in the air.

“I think I’ll stay. I’m trying not to be ignored.” Wyatt sat beside her on the stonework. He took his hat but didn’t don it. “I checked your room first. Couldn’t find a dent in any of the walls.”

“Are you insinuating I’m hard-headed?” DG looked up from her book.

“No insinuation involved, Princess.” Damn his smirk. “What are you reading?”

“A book on economics. I’m trying to see if your pay packet is really a good one. But, so far it’s just so dry all the moisture has been sucked out of my body.” DG waved the book in the air.

“It was the benefits that came with the job that really got me.” He set his hat on a hedgehog sculpture.

“Three hots and a cot?” It was her turn to smirk.

“The chance to spend every day around the bravest, smartest and prettiest woman I know... and to actually get paid for doing it.” His leg pushed against hers playfully.

“I just might be able to respect that reasoning.” 

DG set her book aside and leaned over to press a kiss against his lips. It was the first time she had physically initiated anything more than a hug, although she was big in the broad hints category. He seemed to like her being forward. 

Never breaking the kiss, she managed to move so that she was straddling his lap. His outer thighs pressing against her inner ones. As the kiss deepened, the sensations were a heady combination. If her weight weren’t on her knees, so she was slightly above him, she’d be pressed down into his lap. It was hard to think about position mechanics when Wyatt Cain was offering up a long, drugging kiss. That spurred a hunger that had little to do with missed breakfasts, and a heat that had nothing to do with the sun.

They parted slowly, and DG found herself in the unique position of looking down into Cain’s face. 

“So, this brave, smart, pretty woman… what made you decide you were going to pursue her?” She punctuated her question with another kiss, not allowing it to become too deep, just enough to tease.

“Got the impression I was being watched, so I just turned around and let her catch me.” 

Whatever her reaction would have been, it was swallowed by his mouth.


	5. 4: Tempo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DG seeks advice.

DG was at a loss, and didn't quite know where to go for advice; or even where to find someone to just listen. This was the time she could really use having some of her old friends from the Other Side to talk to. It wasn't like she could ask questions of Glitch or Raw… or, heaven forbid, her mother.

She was most definitely in lust with one Wyatt Cain. Her own personal Tin Man, Boy Scout and protector. Okay, she'd been at least slightly in lust with him three days after she met him. Before that, she'd thought he looked damn fine for a man who spent years in a tin suit, and how the hell was he still anything resembling sane? Three days later, she had begun silently thanking the good Lord above every time he collected deadfall for a campfire, as it required quite a bit of bending over. And man did she feel pervy for it.

The man was grieving for his family, helping her as a point of honor and coming across all paternal on her. At least, he was trying to come across as paternal. But she sure as hell wasn't his kid, and he knew it.

Okay, so she was hopelessly in lust. Yeah, she loved him as well, but the love part wasn't her current problem. Her problem was that they'd been dancing with each other for the past couple of months, and in the last two, they'd been kissing on a regular basis. And he was a hell of a kisser. One night, last week, they had actually spent near an hour making out. She wondered what he would call it; she didn't know there were so many variations. Or that such sessions led to a need for lip balm later in the night.

They had touched each other, but only in 'safe zones.' That night, the way they occasionally pressed together - not directly touching with hands, per say, but more deliberate shifting, - which urged other movement, and gave ample evidence that they were moving on to more. Had even come damn close to moving on to more that night, but the timing wasn't right.

And if they didn't soon, she would find out if it were actually possible to die of frustration.

Which is why she needed advice, because Wyatt Cain was older, and presumably, although arguably, wiser. And, he was a widower. His son, Jeb, was proof he'd 'been there, done that.'

DG hadn't.

Her closest encounter with a penis involved three purloined Playgirl magazines when she was sixteen, and she'd been amazed at the variety of shapes and sizes. And that kissing session almost got her closely acquainted. Damn clothes.

So, her only current knowledge of seduction came from Playgirl's advice column, corny romance novels and movies. And, if her bosom heaved over the top of a bodice, it would be because she couldn't breathe and was well on the way to asphyxiation from a corset; not from any sort of passion. Although she was pretty sure she knew the proper technique for a blow job thanks to the magazine 'true' stories..

She COULD offer to demonstrate that, while waiting for him on his bed… naked. It might work. No, it would give her time to feel stupid and run away. And agonize over the question of whether her boobs were too small.

No, she needed advice from somewhere.

"Az, what do you know about sex?" DG walked into her sister's reading room, the question as her introduction.

"That it's needed to produce children. If you need further information, I believe there is a goat farm a few miles from here where you can observe the mechanics of it." Az didn't even look up from her book, one hand idly playing with the short locks of her hair. She did that a lot lately.

"Gee, thanks. That was helpful," DG drawled.

Az did look up now. "DG, what makes you think I would know anything about sex? I was not the tramp flaunting myself at anything that could breathe." Her voice had gone cold, her anger a palpable thing.

Ooooo kay, not the best person to ask. "You know I didn't mean that. It's just something older sisters are supposed to know. Or not. I don't know who else to ask."

"Your Tin Man, perhaps?" Az's face softened, but there was still a shadow to her eyes. She was so easy to set off into a downward spiral. DG scolded herself for not thinking this through.

"Precisely who I don't want to ask. I don't want to seem like a kid. It's bad enough when he calls me that. Besides, he'd do a lot of blushing, stammer around and walk off. Of course, I could just tackle him and demand step-by-step instructions. It might work for the end result, but it would still come across as slightly less than sophisticated and experienced." DG grabbed a handful of grapes from a bowl sitting on the side table.

"DG, if the swollen lips and bruise on your neck last week were any indication, I don't think he sees you as a child. At this point, mother is waiting to put out the wedding banns."

DG choked on her grape, having to actually pound on her own chest to dislodge it. "Mom and Dad know?" Her voice was rough from coughing out the fruit.

"It's the most well-known secret in the castle, because you were so very secretive in almost having sex outside of the stables. In full view of a stable boy and two grooms. Or in the garden, where the gardener was working at the other end, and I believe the second-floor maid was cleaning windows. Word is, she almost rubbed through the glass watching and then dragged the cook off to places unknown." Az picked up her book once more. "You know much more about the subject than I do."

"Which maid was it?" DG's eyes were wide.

"Does it matter?" Azkadellia looked incredulously at her.

"Yes."

"Why?"

DG grinned. "Because, she'll evidently be able to answer all my questions."

"DG, sit down." Azkadellia pinched the bridge of her nose.

DG sat, perched on the edge of a delicate chair that made her think of Elvin architecture in the Lord of the Rings movies.

Az stood and then crouched before her sister, so they were eye to eye, and took both of DG's hands in her own. Az's hands were soft and warm, and strong.

"You know, in this quest of yours, to find out the mysteries of sex, and to seem less like a child…. You are making yourself look like that child. I may not be, erm… intimately acquainted with the subject, but I do know this: making love is a mystery discovered between partners. It's a dance for two alone. It isn't a competition, and it isn't some sport you get judged on."

Azkedillia let go of one of DG's hands and stroked her sister's cheek. "There is a deep, physical attraction, but Wyatt Cain is attracted to you for who you are. For your courage, determination, empathy for others, your spirit and your soul. If he wasn't, he wouldn't deserve you."

Az offered up a kind of sad smile. "Don't try to be what you aren't. He loves you as you are. And when it is time for you to make love, you have to be yourself then, as well."

DG didn't know when her throat had tightened up, or her vision had hazed over. But she felt a tear slip down her cheek as she leaned forward to embrace her sister.

"When did you get so wise?"

Az grinned. "Just after chapter thirty, when my sister swept in so rudely. I had to think of something to say to get her out so I could read chapter thirty-one. Are we done now? Because, I would really like to finish this book and see if the princess gets her white knight."

DG hugged Az tight again, then let her go and smiled back.

"Hate to ruin the end for you, but the princess is determined, and the knight is far from fighting. The conclusion's pretty forgone." DG moved over to pick up her sister's book of poetry.

"Maybe, but it is fun to read about how they get there. Now, scoot. And I better not hear anything about you talking to the second-floor maid."


	6. 5: Stepping Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacationing.

It had taken a considerable amount of pleading and wheedling to get this vacation. No servants, no courtiers, no politics - just friends, enjoying themselves, away from it all, for a week. Five friends... and their ten security guards. Some concessions just had to be made.

Azkadellia was off with Raw, learning the names of wildflowers and determined to find some berries and apples, as they had when she and DG were children. Glitch was off at the watermill, barely within sight. He wanted to see if it was one of the newer ones, with his improved designs. And, if it wasn’t, could remember what those improvements were?

Which was how she ended up sitting on the ground, propped against a tree, with a brown felt hat shading her eyes from the sun while she sketched the scene before her.

It would have been easier if he’d just stop moving, but no luck there. Wyatt Cain, it turned out, was a fly fisherman. Who’d a’ thunk?

“I get the feeling we’re gonna to be eating rabbit for dinner again,” she called from her position.

“You have no patience,” he called back. He was, conveniently, in a position where he could both fish and see her. He was also in his shirt sleeves. “This isn’t about instant gratification, it takes time. But, the fish will bite.”

Flick, swish. Flick, swish.

“This fish is already biting,” she muttered to herself. “Instant gratification, my ass. I’ll take a break from frustration, thanks.” She kept sketching.

The setting was so nice, that she was just about able to ignore the fact that there was security all around: the O.Z.’s version of the Secret Service, for Az and herself. The good thing was, they were all looking away, seeking signs of trouble from outside the area. And, they kept themselves out of sight, to maintain the illusion of being alone.

“Hey, that’s pretty good. You should show father your work, DG. He’d be so happy you inherited his talent.” Azkadellia and Raw were back.

Az put down a basket full of blackberries, her fingers stained red from the picking.

“Hey, Great Fisherman, at least we’ll have fruit for dinner.” DG grinned. “I’ll make pie, if it’s not the only thing to eat.”

Cain just shook his head.

“Admiring the view, are we?” Az tapped a berry-stained finger on the drawing.

“I won’t deny that.” DG finished adding shadows, then set aside her charcoal. She looked up at her sister with a grin, only to find Azkadellia’s eyes were red and swollen from crying, her face flushed a bit.

“Come, Az. Back to cabin.” Raw gently took the elder sister’s arm.

“Raw?” DG looked to the Viewer for an explanation.

Az moved away, walking toward the group of five cabins they, and the guard, were occupying. 

“Red juice stained hands. Azkadellia couldn’t wipe off with shirt. Mind saw blood. All right now. We clean it all at cabin. Stay here. She not want you to see. Better that way.”

“Alright. But call me if she needs me.” DG felt a bit helpless. She knew that her presence sometimes soothed at times like these, or it could make things worse. 

“What’s wrong?” Cain walked up, an actual fish in hand - and a decent-sized one, at that. 

“Az. Red berry stains on her hands. Need I say more?” DG set aside her tablet and stood up, taking the hat from her head and settling it properly on its owners.

“It’s gonna take time, DG.” He looked over to where Raw was holding the door to the sister’s shared cabin for Az.

“I know. I just feel so helpless sometimes.” She sighed. She knew if anyone understood it would be Cain.

“So,” she took his fishing pole, “Looks like I have to make some pie, then.” Change of topic obvious, and pretty much demanded.

“Looks like. Got enough berries there for three or four.” He looked over his shoulder at the basket Az and Raw had brought back.

“That would require more fish,” she pointed out. 

“I suppose, if you twist my arm, I could do a little more fishing. I was thinking about the men,” he countered.

“Then they have to bring me fish.” She already knew she was going to do it, poor schmucks, stuck out here, on Princess-guarding duty. But then, in their off-shifts, they got a vacation as well. 

That evening, after fish and pie had been eaten DG sat on a weathered porch swing next to Cain, watching the fireflies.

“The stars are sure a lot clearer here than they are on Earth. I guess there isn’t as much pollution. Toto’s trying to teach me the constellations here.” DG leaned into Cain, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I wish I could stay out here forever - just be a girl, not a princess. Not have to worry about who’s feeding me a line of shit; who’s trying to get something out of me. Politics gave me a headache back on Earth; now, they give me a migraine.”

“But you never were just a girl. You were always a princess whether you were aware of it, or not. And you’re doing great at it.” He pulled her closer.

“Yeah, well, you’re biased. But at least I can trust you to tell me if I’m screwing up. Straight talk is a valued commodity.” She looked up at him.

He looked down at her with a slight smile, which she considered too sweet not to taste. So she did, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

As per most of their kisses, it deepened rather quickly - he really did taste sweet, of pie and the wine from dinner, and that unique Cain flavor that should be bottled as a liquor. It would outsell Godiva.

Deciding to be bold, she tugged at his shirt, untucking it. Her hands snuck underneath, tracing the warm skin there, and the muscles of someone who kept active. She felt those muscles tense under his skin as she let her hand glide. He groaned into her mouth and she felt the vibration down to her toes. 

She felt his hand tracing up her side, over her shirt. He paused, not touching, but with his hand framing her breast. She mewed at the teasing and pushed closer; not so much urging. as begging. And she hated to beg. She retaliated by snaking her own hand up, under his shirt running her fingers through the curled hair on his chest. She scraped her thumbnail over his nipple and he broke the kiss to look at her, his pupils so dilated that there was only a thin ring of blue-grey around them.

She felt a surge of pride at that fact that she had done that to him. Sure, it was dark, but there was light enough to see his eyes. She licked her lips nervously, and his eyes fell there.

“We’re treading very dangerous territory here.” His voice was a bit more growley, and it shivered up her spine. 

“I don’t care,” she informed and pressed in for another kiss.

His hand moved now, and she felt its warmth press around her cloth covered breast a moment before his thumb brushed over her own nipple. Now she moaned and arched into him. 

Her insides were melting and heat was gathering between her legs, building to an actual ache. 

“Cain, have you seen my pajamas?” Glitch stumbled out of the cabin he shared with Cain and Raw. “Oh. OH! Sorry. I’ll just go…” He poked his thumb behind him, “Back. Inside. Being quiet now. Have… er… fun, you two.” 

He was clearly blushing as he backed away and slammed the door behind him.

Cain sighed and pulled back. 

“Damnit.” DG rather wanted to kick Glitch in the ass. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No. It’s good he threw a bucket of water on things.” Cain reached out to cup her cheek. “I want you. Who am I kidding? I need you. But there’s a big lack of privacy out here. And kicking those two out would hardly make you comfortable, because they’d know why.”

“Not really caring right now,” she reminded him.

“But I do. I care that you might regret it.” He took her hand and held it to his chest, over the linen of his shirt. “Soon, I promise.”

“Soon,” she echoed.


	7. 6: Circling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And when Wyatt Cain was busy watching everyone else, the princess gave him the same look, filled with longing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chronologically, this takes place before the first story of this series.

Six weeks had passed since the defeat of the witch. During that time, Jeb witnessed his father silently trailing Princess DG, eyes always alert, acting like he was back on protection detail. But Jeb knew his dad hadn’t been assigned any such job.

It was only on the day after the battle, when Jeb was visiting his men in the makeshift infirmary, that he noticed the first glimmer. 

Both princesses, under heavy protective guard, came into the infirmary; they wanted to use their magic to try to help the worst cases. Needless to say, his people were more than distrustful of Azkadellia. She wouldn’t meet any of their eyes, keeping hers on the floor, and worked only on the unconscious. She really did heal them, wearing herself into exhaustion, until she had to be supported as she was led out.

DG talked to each man and woman she healed. Lost eyes, lost limbs, gut wounds, punctured lungs. After those patients were all out of danger, she took each, in turn, and listened to their stories with huge, blue eyes; full of compassion and, occasionally, full of tears. Jeb had acknowledged his father when the group arrived and made his way to where the youngest princess worked her magic. That’s when Jeb noticed it.

Wyatt Cain looked away from his perusal of the room and focused on the princess. There was something in his eyes; a softness that hadn’t been there a moment before, a sense of pride, as well as something else. It was an echo of the look he used to give Jeb’s mother, but, in seconds, it was gone and there was that stalwart, stony look again.

And when Wyatt Cain was busy watching everyone else, the princess gave him the same look, filled with longing. But she wouldn’t let his father see it.

Jeb then remembered his father and his friends insisting on riding off to find this girl, instead of storming the castle with the rebels. He’d said she was their hope of defeating Azkadellia. But now, he recalled something in his father’s eyes: fear and determination. It was personal, on many levels.

After seeing those looks the first few days, Jeb had been angry. How dare he? Didn’t he respect mother’s memory at all? She could be his sister.

But reason - and memories of how his mother had been - slipped him past that anger. 

It wasn’t as if the elder Cain hadn’t made time to spend with Jeb; he did, daily. He wanted to know about Jeb’s life, about Adora. His father tried to remain stoic, but the pain was obvious, and it convinced Jeb his father missed his mother deeply. Jeb knew his parents had loved each other deeply and before the Longcoats came he’d had an almost idyllic childhood. 

Wyatt made certain Jeb knew how proud he was of the man Jeb had become. It was strange, becoming reacquainted with a man he hadn’t seen in eight years. He wasn’t the same. Neither of them were. Jeb was no longer a child, and he recognized his father as a human being, not as the larger-than-life figure his memories had shaped him into. They now had to feel around the edges of their relationship, to find how they fit together. 

Jeb had become a leader, despite his youth, because he could read people. He could see beyond what was said to read the little signs, almost imperceptible. He read his father and the princess too well. 

So, now, he stood in the hallway of the palace, knocking on the door to his father’s room. How odd was that? His father’s room. In the palace.

The door opened and the glower, most likely meant to send whomever was disturbing him away, morphed into a smile.

“Jeb, come on in.” The door swung open to admit him.

Jeb looked around: there was a desk full of papers and a couple of books; two overstuffed chairs, half-facing the fireplace and half facing each other; a closet, a trunk and a large bed. None of the furnishings were fancy, and there was a very large, triple-paned window, open on either side. Jeb noted that his father didn’t appear care too much for closed-in spaces. 

The only decorations in the room were two quilts, hanging on a frame. One was the one Grandmother had made for Dad when he got married; the other, the one Mother had made. They were both a bit discolored - his mother’s stained at the bottom edge.

“I was hoping I could talk to you.” Jeb stood just inside the doorway, almost at attention.

“You know you can, anytime,” his father gestured to one of the two chairs.

Jeb took a seat. “The Queen has offered me a Captain’s commission in the Royal Guard.”

His father’s eyes widened a bit, but there was the pride. “Are you taking it?”

“Yes. It looks like most of the loyal guard from before were either killed in the fighting, executed or joined the Resistance. Most of my people are taking offered positions. I know them and I know how to lead them. I just… it fits, I guess.” Jeb picked nervously at the cuticles of his nails.

“It does fit. It’s quite a responsibility, but you can handle it easily. I’m happy for you.”

“Did you say anything to the Queen? I mean… was I asked because of you?” Jeb met his father’s eyes.

“I don’t ask for favors, son. You got asked on your own merit.” 

Jeb nodded, relieved. He didn’t want handouts.

“I wanted to talk to you about something else.” Jeb watched his father carefully. “About Princess DG.”

Wyatt frowned, but there was concern in his face as well. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at her when she isn’t looking at you.” Jeb leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

“The way I what?” He seemed puzzled, and a touch guilty at the same time.

“Just hear me out, without interrupting.” Jeb raised a hand to silence any upcoming protests.

“Mom loved you. Long past the time I figured you were dead, she believed you were alive. She loved you, and she would never want you to be alone in this world.” Jeb made sure his eyes were locked with his father’s.

“I’m not alone. I have you. I have friends, it’s not like I’m a recluse…” his father scoffed.

“I asked you to hear me out,” Jeb insisted. “Fighting all these years taught me a lot. Including, that tomorrow is never guaranteed. We have to grab what we can, while we have it. Take our happiness as it comes.”

Jeb took a deep breath. “You look at the Princess like you used to look at Mom. And you also seem to feel guilty about it. Not to mention, the fact that you seem to hide it very well. The Princess looks at you the same way, when you aren’t looking. You’re both standing there, right next to each other, and neither of you will move.”

“Dad, take love where you can get it. Hell, Mom would like DG. You’re hardly an old man, even if you do get crotchety. You have to live. Don’t punish yourself for the past, and don’t feel too guilty to move on.” Jeb leaned back in the chair, signaling his speech was done.

“You’re out of your mind.” His father was on his feet, pacing the room. “DG is… my responsibility. A friend even. But she’s also a kid. You… where do you even get these ideas?”

Jeb just smirked a bit. “You know, a beautiful unspoken-for Princess, like her, is bound to have a bunch of suitors show up eventually. Most power-hungry, some curious, others reaching. I don’t know what’ll happen then. But I do know she won’t be happy with any of them, because you know how she feels. You’re smart and observant, and just as good at reading people as I am. She’s never going to say anything, out of respect for you and fear of rejection. I can tell you, no matter what you tell yourself, that look isn’t infatuation or a form of hero worship. I’ve seen it in the camps often enough. It’s real and true.”

Jeb stood up. “I’m gonna to head back. I just wanted to tell you about the job, so I’ll be seeing a lot more of you. I also want to wish you ‘Safe Journey and Good Luck.’” 

That morning, his father had told Jeb that he was riding out, with a group of fighters and Tin Men, to apprehend some Longcoat holdouts in the Eastern Guild. They were currently in Munchkin Territory. “I gotta remind you, you never let fear get the better of you before. Lastly, if you don’t make it back in time for the Celebration Ball, the entire Royal Family will be displeased, and one will be more than a bit hurt. So, stay in one piece.”

Jeb left his father standing there; his look, for once, one Jeb couldn’t read.


	8. 7: Pas de Deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks like the Vacation really is over.

DG knew it was going to be a rough night the moment they entered the castle. They had barely let their luggage - what there was of it - hit the floor, when Jeb Cain approached, looking grim.

“Sir.” The formal greeting sent off warning bells in DG’s head. “We’ve captured a dozen Reeges in a raid. We have intel on what they’ve been up to, but the prisoners are being less than talkative.”

Reeges. It was what most people called the New Regency Alliance. They were determined to have the Queen, and her line, ousted and Azkadellia taken to pay for her crimes. Luckily, they were a fringe minority. The Viewers, sharing Az’s memories in a few broadcasts, helped, but, more effective, was something the Witch had set up herself.

To memorialize the moment, she was recording it, with one of Glitch’s little device-thingies. It caught everything. Including, Azkadellia escaping the witch, AND standing against her. 

The general populace accepted the evidence, but there were always dissenters. It was Reeges who had attacked DG and Cain, over a month ago, during her first riding lesson - planning to use her as a hostage.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Cain nodded. 

As he was there in an official capacity, hugging the young man was out of the question.

Cain looked back at his friends, then let his eyes linger on DG. “Looks like the vacation really is over. I’ll see you later.”

With a simple gesture from him, two of the guards who had accompanied them moved forward. They would shadow DG and Az while Cain wasn’t there.

By the time night had fallen, DG felt like she needed another vacation. They’d been filled in on all they had missed during their week away; lists of measures passed in council, signatures needed for some projects she had spearheaded for orphans and career training for kids who grew up in rebel camps. It seemed endless.

A hot bubble bath helped a little. As did her comfy PJs and fluffy slippers. 

She really wanted to sue Disney - being a princess was WORK. It was often tedious, often nerve wracking and, usually frustrating. Cinderella could have the job.

She decided to see if Cain was back, and what news there was. This required a robe, because, evidently, princesses did not walk the halls in flannel PJs. She found the double layer of flannel was a bit much.

Knocking on his door, she heard him grumble something that suspiciously sounded like: “Go away.”

So she opened the door and slipped inside, of course.

The former Tin Man was sitting at his desk, wrapping his hand in a bandage.

“What happened?” DG moved quickly to him, eyes huge with concern.

“Somebody’s face kept getting in the way of my fist.” His voice was flat.

“Again with the ‘what happened?’” DG took the bandage from him, as his left-handed efforts were far from neat. She unwrapped a bit and took over until she taped the gauze-like material closed.

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I worry about you. And if somebody’s face busted your knuckles, I’d like to know why.” DG gave a half-smile. 

But inside, she was worried. Cain wasn’t the type to pound on a subdued prisoner; he hadn’t even with Zero, so she’d heard. Threatened, maybe; tricked, fine; but beaten?

He stood up - sometimes she hated having to look up at him. It made her feel tiny and his height gave him an unfair advantage.

“DG, I’m not going to discuss what happens in an interrogation with you, so you can stop digging now. A report on the gathered information has been sent to your mother. The immediate threat has been eliminated.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing softly over her lips. “You’re safe.”

“I know I am. I’m here. With you.” She tilted her head to lean into his hand.

Then he was kissing her again, and she really would never get tired of that. It was a gentle, unhurried kiss; slow to build, with light teases. His tongue would trace her lip, and when she opened up to allow him access, he backed away.

“Tease.” Her voice was breathless as they broke apart for a few seconds. 

Then he pulled her flush against him. She never felt so soft and feminine, especially in flannel. He wasn’t soft. His body was solid, his shoulders broad; he seemed to dwarf her.

The fingers of his bandaged hand ran through her hair, ghosting over the curve of her ear.

Then his kissed her again. This time, it wasn’t gentle or teasing. It was hungry, almost demanding. His mouth was hot, his tongue coaxing hers, leading it into a dance; stroking, then retreating. He tasted dark and rich; he tasted of desire. Her blood seemed to heat in her veins, her insides melting. All she could do was wind her arms around his neck and hold on, knowing he’d support her.

They were both breathing hard when the need for air overpowered the need for each other.

“DG…” She took in his breath as he spoke, accepting the warm flow inside herself.

“Is it soon yet?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.

He released his hold on her and backed away a few inches. She took it as a shock, a rejection even. Until she felt his knuckles through two layers of cloth as he untied the belt of her stupid flannel robe.

Her chest tightened. A sudden rush of nerves hit her at the same time as the heat of his eyes overwhelmed her.

‘Oh Lord,’ they were going to do this. What was she supposed to do? She figured a smile of encouragement was a good start.


	9. Tango

Wyatt pushed the robe open slowly, letting it fall to the floor. DG bit her lip and placed both hands on his firm stomach, running her palms over the linen of his shirt, up to the button below the one he usually left undone. She tried to ignore the few drops of blood on the shirt, as they didn’t belong to this moment.

With shaking hands, DG began to undo the buttons. It just seemed right - and natural - to lean forward and kiss, then quickly lap, Wyatt’s Adam’s apple; then the indentation at the base of his throat. His groan vibrated against her lips and she smiled. Her nose tickled his skin, taking in the scent of him - he wasn’t all freshly-soaped up from a bath. They had ridden long to make it back; then he was off doing whatever resulted in him punching a prisoner. He smelled masculine; slightly musky with lingering traces of leather and gun oil. He smelled very sexy.

Her fingers grew a bit more sure - although she was still trembling – and, at last, his shirt was open. DG ran her hands up the same path she had taken them before, only - this time - they stroked flesh; the curling blonde hairs of his chest tickled her palms before they stroked the smoothness of his shoulders. As he had with her robe, she pushed his shirt over his shoulders. 

“You’re killing me here, and we’ve barely started,” he growled into her ear, nuzzling her hairline and placing soft kisses at her temple.

“Oh good. I was afraid I’d mess up.” It was an effort to come up with words. 

“Impossible.” His hands cupped her face, holding her there for a kiss that demanded everything from her. When the kiss ended, she felt weak already. 

He leaned back and unbuttoned her top, but only so far, before grabbing the hem and peeling it off over her head.

DG had to fight the urge to cover herself. What was he thinking? She was short - petite was the polite word, but it amounted to the same thing - and the breast fairy hadn’t been overly generous when she handed out favors. Az seemed to have gotten DG’s portion, as well as her own. 

“Beautiful.” The word was half-whispered; breathy. It made her blush, warmed her heart and made her feel a bit more confident. All that, from one word. But, it had come from the mouth of Wyatt Cain.

 

Somehow, the rest of their clothing got peeled away, and there she was: naked with a man, for the first time. While she was still very nervous, it was all right. He was her Tin Man; he’d protect her like he always did. 

Her eyes took him in; he was magnificent. He had visible scars, and she ached to sooth them. She couldn’t stop looking, and her blush heated further as her eyes followed the train of pale hair from beneath his navel to… there. It was both strangely fascinating and intimidating. She looked away then, not wanting to stare like an idiot, and brought her eyes back up to his face.

He was looking as well; his pale eyes slid over her face, her throat, her breasts and belly. And his gaze felt like a caress; one she wanted it to be. She wanted him to touch her. Her nipples puckered under his gaze as surely as if he was touching her.

He swept her up and, as he actually carried her to the bed, she couldn’t bottle the laugh that rose up.

“Laughing at me already, Princess?” There was a soft smile on his face. His steel-blue eyes taking her in where she lay. 

It made her skin feel too tight, too hot. 

“Just not quite expecting the Rhett Butler act.” DG reached up and clasped his arm, feeling the strength under the skin. Hers.

“I still don’t understand you.” Bemusement tinged Cain’s face. 

“I’m a woman. I don’t think you’re supposed to,” she assured him.

 

He leaned over her, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks and the corners of her mouth, before taking her mouth with his. It felt decadent and erotic to be kissing him, tasting him with flesh touching flesh; Nothing coming between them.

Then his body was against her, strong and intent over hers. His skin was hot, his eyes almost totally dark. And she could feel him thick and hard against her. She might have been frightened, if so many other feelings weren’t already swamping her. 

She gave a breathy moan and her body arched up into his; seeking, hungry. Her hands ran over his arms and back, feeling the slightly-raised skin of another scar. The fingertips of one hand mapped the ridges of his spine as the other moved to the back of his head, feeling the bristly hair there.

Then, Wyatt was kissing her throat. Hot, open-mouthed kisses, so his tongue laving the skin, and down her chest he went. One of his hands cradled the side of her neck, the other caressed her breast, fingers teasing her nipple so that she couldn’t contain the whimper and her teeth closed over her bottom lip. When his mouth closed over her other breast, she did cry out. The strong pull of him nursing at her seemed to tug some hidden chord within her, straight to her core. DG’s hips thrust up with the surge of liquid heat. Her legs were cradling him, aching for him.

“Please.” She wasn’t sure it was her voice at first. “Please, please, oh God, Wyatt, please.”

His mouth moved determinedly to the other breast, and the hand at her throat followed a path downward, between her breasts, pausing to delicately circle her navel, then down further. It felt odd and amazing to feel fingers not her own brush through her curls, stroke her womanhood delicately, then more firmly.

Wyatt abandoned her breasts to look into her face, watching her as he pressed a single digit into her. She gave a gasping cry at the feeling. A callused thumb moved to circle that little bundle of nerves that held so much power.

“Now you’re killing me,” she half-croaked. 

His oh-so-sensual mouth covered hers again as he added a second finger, preparing her.

“I don’t want to hurt you, DG,” he breathed against her lips.

“Well, I’m in agony here. Give a girl some compassion.” She ran her nails through his hair, scratching his scalp.

“You are not making this easy,” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Good, cause I kinda like it hard.” Her smirk taunted him, and she was, surprisingly, comfortable with teasing him this way. 

She felt a bit bereft when his hand left her. 

“I’m trying to do right by you, you know.” His forehead was resting against hers.

“Wyatt, you can’t possibly do wrong by me.” She kissed him, pouring her passion into him; tasting his in return. 

And then he was there, moving inch by slow inch. He paused at her whimper, breaking their kiss to look at her with concern.

“That was good, silly. Get moving, will you?” She raised her hips again.

“DG, you could try any man’s patience.” He closed his eyes with a look of such concentration.

“But I only want to try yours. I’m not made out of glass, you know.” Damnit, she NEEDED him to move. She felt so perfectly full where he was - an amazing pressure - and something was coiling in her belly.

He began to withdraw, then thrust his hips forward with a powerful surge.

OW! Her eyes filled with the sting of tears. Okay, that kinda stung. She had expected it too. But, really, he was a bit big. Of course, she had pleaded with him not to knock, but to bring in the battering ram.

He wasn’t moving now and she felt his thumbs brushing away the momentary tears.

“I’m sorry.” He looked guilty now.

Why? It was already fading, and her heated blood was demanding more. 

“I’m not.” Feeling bold, she reached down and cupped one cheek of that gorgeous ass. “Mind getting this show on the road? I’ve been waiting for you all my life, and I’m about out of patience.”

He gave a chuckle, which felt damn good through her body. She thought she heard him mutter: “Exasperating,” but wasn’t certain. 

Because he was moving. Oh. This was… Oh. She found her hands wrapped around his biceps as her body moved with his. Glorious friction.

If this was dancing, she never wanted the music to end. 

Her body was tightening, reaching for that peak. She kept climbing, that coil within her tightening more and more with each movement; with each time, he filled her as if made for her. Then Cain gave this little roll of his hips as he drove home. Ohmygod! And again. And again. And…

DG seemed to implode and explode all at the same time. Her body arching erratically, rocking against him, squeezing him as she felt the climax from her toes right through her hair.

She was pretty sure she called his name as she was falling. And her Tin Man caught her.

***

DG had to admit to herself that she was a bit sore - not that she regretted a moment. She also knew she would be seeking repeat experiences. Many of them. Her soreness would fade, and likely not return. She could live with that. Especially to feel like this. 

Her cheek against his chest, she listened to Wyatt’s steady, strong heartbeat; her arm was wrapped around his waist. She felt his arm pressed to her back as his fingers ghosted up and down her side where her arm embraced him. Those fingers occasionally stroking the outer edge of her breast; the moistness still clinging to both of their skin gave her a kind of mental satisfaction. She gave in to the impulse to turn her head a bit and give his chest a little lick, tasting the saltiness of their perspiration.

“Don’t go starting something neither of can finish right now.” His voice sounded strange, yet comforting, rumbling through his chest. 

“Had an urge to taste,” she smiled into his skin.

“And you always follow your urges.” She could hear his smile. 

She could lay here forever, safe and replete.

“Go to sleep.” A kiss was pressed to the crown of her head.

She couldn’t think of any reason to argue.

Hours later, she wasn’t certain if it was the gunshots or Wyatt, suddenly sitting up with an epithet she’d never heard him use before that woke her. He was out of the bed and had snatched up his own gun from the nightstand, somehow actually managing to pull on a pair of pajama bottoms as he ran out the door.

Then more gunshots speared fear through her and she jumped out of bed as well. It sounded like it had come from down the hall; from the direction of her family’s chambers.

She snatched her robe from the floor and hurriedly pulled it on, knotting the sash as she cautiously opened the door.

There were at least a dozen of the royal guard in the hallway.


	10. 9: Intermission

One of the male guards in the hallway saw DG peering out the door of Cain’s room and looked shocked, then horrified.

She could care less; there had been gunshots from the direction of her family’s quarters. She started to step outside, but one of the guards stepped forward and physically blocked the door. The uniformed woman shook her head and DG’s mouth pressed into a grim line as she peered around the door and down the hall. Even if she wasn’t being allowed to leave the room, she would see what was happening.

There was a woman stepping out of Azkadellia’s quarters - Az’s height and wearing one of her nightgowns - that was not her sister. And the gun in her hand was also not reassuring DG. 

Cain emerged from DG’s room, his feet and chest bare; his own gun in hand. Trailing after him was another woman, small and in a pair of DG’s pjs. The short woman started to talk animatedly with the woman vaguely-looking like Az as Cain moved down to the Queen’s chambers at the very end of the hallway. He went inside without knocking and the door closed behind him.

“Why are those women dressed in Az’s and my nightclothes?” DJ looked to the guardswoman refusing to let her out. She was the only female uniformed guard in the immediate vicinity, and the men were determinedly NOT looking at DG, but keeping their rifles trained down the hall.

The woman looked momentarily surprised. “You were supposed to know. They’re the decoys. When we learned the kidnappings and assassination attempt was to happen in three days, the Commander set them up and insisted they start baiting the trap early.”

The woman was more informative than Cain had been, and DG’d have to let him have it for that later.

“Where’s my family?” DG drew herself up, back straight and poised. Regal was the look her mother tried to impress in her. 

The look was doubtlessly ruined by her mussed hair, swollen lips and a bare leg showing from the split of her robe. ‘Oops.’ DG straightened both legs, so the robe was properly closed.

“The servant’s wing, under guard, your Highness. The outside guards were to allow the Reeges through, so they could be caught in the trap.” 

Ah. Why hadn’t he told her? She felt more than a little betrayed.

Six guards emerged from the suite DG’s parents occupied - in the middle of them was a scowling man, hands bound behind.

“Inside, your Highness.” The female guard stepped into the doorway, causing DG to step back, and took the opening to pull the door closed, keeping DG in Cain’s room. DG pressed her ear to the door.

‘Jin-Jin, what happened?” It sounded like the guard.

“When they realized they were trapped, both of the kidnappers shot themselves. Same happened to Gen. I mean, if they wanted to die, they should have let us do it; give us the satisfaction.” Another woman sounded angry.

“And, apparently, one of the two the assassins jumped off the balcony from the Queen’s chambers. The robot guy tackled the other one - keeping him from killing himself - so, basically, Gen and I are gonna get chewed a new one,” the one called Jin-Jin hissed lower in register.

“That’s not fair. You couldn’t have known they were fanatics.”

DG backed away from the door. How do you fight fanatics? How did they end up with frickin’ Al Qaeda in the O.Z.?

It was a few minutes before Cain returned to the room, looking grim.

“What the hell is going on out there?” She half-stormed across the room.

“We had information that an attempt would be made to kidnap you and Az, and kill the Queen and Prince Consort. Everything we learned from all sources said it would be three or four days from now.” Cain sat wearily on the edge of his bed. “I didn’t want to take any chances, so I had your family moved to the servant’s wing with twenty guards, and I had armed decoys set up on your rooms. The plan was to lure the Reeges in, then capture them. But it seems they were a bit more insistent at not being taken alive than we thought.” He set his gun back on the nightstand.

“And you never bothered to tell me this? You have a bad habit of keeping me in the dark.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, unaware how that made her robe gape open.

“I was…” he started and she joined in, “going to tell you.”

He was doing that teeth grinding-thing again.

“As soon as I fixed my knuckles, I was going to see you and ask you to join your family. But I got sidetracked about the time you said you felt safe with me.” Cain ran a hand over his face.

“As annoying as you can be, I am safe with you. It’s a good thing you put your plan into action early. At least you got one of them.” DG stepped forward and placed her hands on his shoulders. “I just wish you’d trust me enough to talk to me.”

“I do. It’s just you’re a terrible influence on my concentration.”

DG smirked, “Not very good for your job, but great for my ego.” She moved to sit beside him.

“Are you gonna be going now, questioning the prisoner and all that?” She lay her head on his shoulder.

“No. I’m going to stay here with you. There are times my being there helps, and times when it hurts.” He put his arm around her. 

Technically - once the royal family was safe and secure - it was the guard’s job to imprison and interrogate, not to mention prosecute. Wyatt was only in charge of the security of the royal family.

“Not exactly how I pictured our first night together,” DG confessed.

“Me either.” He sighed then pressed a kiss to her temple. “Come on, back to bed with you. It’s the middle of the night.”

“You know the guard kinda saw me.” DG dropped her robe, enjoying Cain’s eyes on her as she slipped under the covers.

“Are you sorry about that?” He stood over her.

“No, not really. Az told me we’re the most well-known secret in the castle,” she chuckled.

She loved to see him smile. “Not limited to the castle.” He circled the bed to slip under the covers on the other side. 

As she curled into him, DG felt Wyatt’s arms wrap around her, holding her a bit tightly; a bit desperately. She didn’t comment on it; just kissed his jaw and lay there, wrapped in security.


	11. 10: Turn

Morning found DG moving into the kitchens where her family was already seated. It was an odd sight; her family never ate in the kitchens. When they ate together, it was much more formal, and in the private dining room.

DG was freshly showered and dressed, and looking forward to getting something to eat. And here they were: the Royal Family, sitting at a polished stone island in the kitchen.

“Um… morning?” She looked from one face to the next. 

Az was giving her a knowing look; one that made DG both want to blush from head to toe and to kick her sister in the shin. 

“Az… are you holding a puppy?” DG took a seat next to her sister.

“This is Gregory. His name means ‘watchful and valiant’.” Az held up the puppy. It was all legs, with a sharp nose and barrel chest and…

“Is it a Greyhound?” DG asked, pointing to the animal. “And, is it sanitary to have it in your lap in the kitchen?”

“Yes, he’s a Greyhound. And I don’t care about my dress, and they can just wash off the counter,” Az became suddenly defensive.

“Captain Cain gave her the puppy last night,” the Queen spoke up, giving DG that annoying, all-knowing look she had.

Oh God, could this family get any more messed up? Jeb Cain had given Az a puppy? Was she so blind she had missed something there? At some point in the future, could her sister end up her step-daughter-in-law? Didn’t they make movies about families like those attacking canoers?

Az finished her soft-boiled egg and stood up. She leaned over DG.

“You have another bruise on your neck, and you weren’t in the servant’s wing with us. Now, *I* won’t have to quiz the second-floor maid,” she whispered with a chuckle.

DG quickly stuffed a piece of dry toast in her mouth and hoped her face wasn’t too red.

“Knock it off,” DG mumbled around her toast. She grabbed a glass of pink juice that was something close to orangey in flavor. 

“Have you seen Commander Cain this morning, DG? I’d like a word with him.” Ahamo gave her a pointed look.

DG’s stomach dropped out. Oh, she had hoped they could delay this for at least a few days. 

“About what?” The wide-eyed innocent look had worked for her in the past.

“Well, assassination attempts, using decoys; the entire affair.” 

DG was definitely seeing the father-figure here, because his eyes were looking right into her. Any moment now, he was going to use her full name, including the middle one, in THAT tone.

“Yes, there is quite a bit we need to discuss with him about the security of our family.” Queen Lavender looked at DG.

“I… guess so. But if there’s security things to talk about, I think I should be there. It concerns me as well.” There was more than one conversation going on here.

“I’m certain you’ll get briefed on it immediately after. It will be easier on everyone.”

***

DG had been told to avoid going outside, except for the central garden. That one was surrounded by palace on all four sides.

She felt like a prisoner. Actually, she felt like a prisoner awaiting judgment. Cain was in conference with her parents.

The fact that her two uniformed shadows were casing the area, didn’t make her feel less imprisoned. Why were there always two of them, unless Cain was on duty? 

“You look like you’re waiting for the munchkins to peel you.” Glitch sat down beside DG, elbow on his knee and leaned his face into his fist.

“Something like that,” DG acknowledged. “Did you know Jeb gave Azkadellia a puppy?”

“Yeah. Cute little thing, isn’t he? He and Raw agreed she needed something outside of herself to take care of. A puppy made sense. Complete devotion and loyalty, a cute little package that’s hard to resist, and a need for some mothering. If she thinks about the dog, she might not think so much about other things. And when she gets bad, she might consider little Gregory, as well. Rather brilliant, if I do say so.” Glitch grinned.

“But Jeb bought Az a puppy,” DG spoke, her tone flat.

“Technically, he didn’t buy one; he has a breeder friend. Secondly, Raw helped him with it, and helped him pick the best pup for Azkadee’s needs. So, it’s kinda from both of them.” Glitch tilted his head. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m just wondering if this family could end up on Jerry Springer.” DG looked down the hall as the doors to one side opened. 

Cain did not exit the room alone. He was with Commissioner Garalli, head of the Tin Men; and Commander Malichi, of the Royal Guard. As they were speaking to one another amicably, maybe it was all business, after all.

And, maybe, if she clicked her heels together three times, she’d wake up back in Kansas, she mentally chided herself.


	12. Side Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened in that meeting:

What happened in that meeting:

Cain was used to being called into meetings by now. Hell, he’d actually called one himself last night, without the usual: ‘At your convenience.’ He’d told the Queen, the Prince Consort and Az what was going to happen, and where they were being moved to. Although, he did apologize for the presumption and explained that his priority was their safety. 

The Queen’s smile of amusement - and something else - was a bit unnerving, as she simply acquiesced.

He knew this meeting would end up in a report, but he got the impression - by the lack of the presence of Commissioner Garalli and Commander Malichi - that this portion was a bit more private.

He wasn’t concerned about a reprimand, or reassignment. His relationship with DG was pretty much well-known, even outside of the palace. If their Majesties were going to voice any objections, it would have been months ago.

Although, there was a niggling part of him - a small part - that felt like a nervous kid. There was a slim chance he could be called to the floor because they viewed courting as all right, but debauching their youngest without anything formal was unacceptable. And, somehow, talking to a girl’s parents when sex was involved hadn’t gotten any easier since he was sixteen and he’d been caught with Karina Jakes in the barn… by her rather irate parents. At least these parents weren’t going to tell him to keep it in his pants and threaten him with bull clippers. 

He hoped.

So he stood in the middle of the office, shared by their Majesties, hat in hand; reasonably confident, with only a butterfly or two present in his stomach.

“Please have a seat, Commander,” Queen Lavender gestured to one of the chairs in the sitting area, away from the desks.

He stood before a well-stuffed chair of green leather and waited until Her Majesty was seated before taking his own seat.

“This isn’t about last night’s attacks.” He made it a statement.

“I’m afraid not,” Ahamo answered.

“Commander… may I call you Wyatt? I already feel you are part of this family.” The Queen looked perfectly composed.

Her statement was flattering - to a point - and when the Queen requested to address you informally, it wasn’t as if you could say: “No.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He sat his hat on his knee.

“Lavender, please,” she inclined her head.

“That would be rather inappropriate, Your Majesty.” And pretty uncomfortable.

“Hardly, as you will eventually be family in the literal sense,” she smiled gently.

Was that an order? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already planned such in the near future. But a royal decree was a bit much.

As if reading his body language, Ahamo stepped in. “It’s hardly an order, Wyatt. But over the last year, it’s become rather obvious you’re a man of honor. I would be very surprised if your relationship with our daughter were not heading in that direction. After all, you’ve hardly hidden your courtship, pretty much making a public declaration of intent.”

“Son, what we’re about to discuss is not to leave this room. That is an order,” Ahamo continued.

Cain was surprised. No one had called him ‘Son’ in over fifteen years. It ingrained the level of acceptance here; it was an honor to be so regarded by DG’s family. 

“Certainly, sir,” Cain agreed. He was certain that ‘not leaving the room’ included not telling DG herself, which could prove contentious between the two of them.

“Ahamo, please. This is a family discussion.” 

“Wyatt, are you aware of the connection between the Lands of the O.Z. and its monarch?” Lavender’s hands were betraying her. She was toying with her wedding ring.

“I understand there’s a magical bond, of sorts.” Cain had no idea where this was going.

“Yes, there is. The land is protected, in a very real way, by the link. It is why there has never been a successful, outside invasion of the O.Z.” The witch’s internal takeover needed no mention.

“When I gave DG part of my life force - and most of my magic - to save her, it strained that connection. I had enough magic left to keep that link going, even imprisoned. Normally, it isn’t even felt, easily forgotten. But my lack of power now…” Lavender wrapped her arms about herself. Ahamo lay a hand on her shoulder and she reached up to cover his hand.

Something was wrong.

“I can sustain the O.Z. for five more years. Perhaps six... but no more. At such time, I must step down, for the protection of the country. We all know that, even if the people would accept Azkadellia as Queen, she is no longer able to handle the stress and strain that the position can bring. She’s rather fragile now.” Lavender met Cain’s eyes, and he found himself unable to look away.

“DG will become Queen.” He understood. 

“She will. Her lessons and contribution to council sessions are to prepare her. Over the next five years, I will slowly be placing more responsibility on her. It will not be easy; she will need support and as many people as she can trust, absolutely. Her compassionate nature will also require a more worldly balance. Wyatt, you are exactly what she needs. In every way,” Lavender explained.

Ahamo spoke up once more. “Prince Consort is not just an empty title, as you know. Not only do we need to be there for the Queen; we actually take an active part in commanding and directing the army. We help in negotiations; take on duties to ease the burden on the Queen.”

We. Cain was aware that the title would likely end up his, as he did plan on marrying DG. It was one of the uncomfortable realities he’d taken into consideration. Titles and politics were never his thing. The politics within the Tin Men often set his teeth on edge in the day. And Prince anything made him itch with an uncomfortable feeling all over his skin. But after Jeb had made him face up to things, Cain knew he couldn’t imagine life without her. And the idea of someone else being Prince Consort made him sick.

Cain nodded. He was partly aware of the duties Ahamo fulfilled. He’d only left when the witch began her power play to work – literally – underground, at the direct command of the Queen. He’d refused a request.

“We would like you to take some time as Ahamo’s bodyguard. I know you will dislike not being there to watch over DG all the time. But you will be assigned such duties only during negotiations, at first. Not only will you be acting as bodyguard, but you will learn. You will be expected to attend lessons while DG is in hers. You will learn delicate politics known only to very few. As DG is being groomed to become Queen, you must also be prepared,” Lavender explained. “Every effort will be made to assure that you both have time for yourselves. We completely understand the need to just be with each other. We certainly take every opportunity. Five years should be plenty of time, I think. Ahamo only had two, and he was starting with a blank slate as to all of the O.Z. and surrounding kingdoms. You won’t be spending all day buried under duties, although, I suspect your guarding DG will hardly stop after you are off-duty.”

Cain wasn’t sure what to think. He hadn’t considered he’d have to take classes; he was too old to going back to school. But he knew this was part of being with DG. 

“When DG learns about your training is up to you. I’m certain you haven’t officially asked her yet, and we don’t want to interfere with your own plans. We also don’t want DG to know the reason for my stepping down, when the time comes. You are aware of her tendency to blame herself for things beyond her control,” Ahamo explained.

“I’ll do my best.” He couldn’t quite call them by name yet. “It is a bit… unexpected.”

“We know. But you will have five years to acclimate.” Lavender tried to be reassuring.

“I do appreciate you’re realizing I’m here for the long haul,” Cain admitted. 

“If you weren’t, we’d be having a whole different conversation right now,” Ahamo assured him, every inch the father-figure.

There was a knock at the door. “That will be Commander Malichi and Commissioner Garalli. We do need to discuss the assassination attempt or what you have learned of the Reeges plans.”

Just like that, he was back on duty.


	13. Foxtrot

DG sat down next to Azkadellia on an ornate wooden glider at the edge of the garden patio, where Az’s puppy was chasing a butterfly around the flowers.

“Something’s going on.” DG crossed her arms.

“Lots of things are going on. Do you care to be more specific?” Az took her eyes off the playful pup.

“For the last week, since our dear parents had that meeting with Wyatt,” DG made quote marks with her fingers at the word meeting, which apparently confused her sister.

“And?” Az prodded.

“Well, he’s always spent time personally guarding you guys. Especially you when you leave the palace. But, you have to admit, he spends most of his time as my bodyguard. Lately, he’s spent two days a week as Dad’s bodyguard, and he wears that guard uniform. He hates that uniform.” With her foot, DG traced a pattern on the carved stone floor of the patio.

“You’re jealous. You are jealous of your own father,” Az grinned. “And Cain can’t exactly act as bodyguard to the Prince Consort, or even the Queen, during official business in his usual attire.”

“I’m not jealous of Dad. I just, kinda, miss Wyatt being around as much. And I think Mom and Dad had somethin’ to do with it. Maybe they don’t approve and are trying to subtly whittle away at our time together,” DG hypothesized.

“Hardly. Mother rather likes your Wyatt. And they trust him with all of our lives. Maybe they’re trying to get to know him better. After all, your courtship is pretty much public discussion.” Az whistled and Gregory ran to her, wagging his tail so hard his entire back end danced.

“It’s still… odd.” DG reached down to pet the pup, who jumped up between the two women, seeking attention from both.

“Besides, it isn’t as if you’ve been anywhere near the room assigned you before we moved back. You haven’t exactly learned the fine art of subtlety, DG. And you still haven’t told your sister all about it.”

DG blushed. “It’s… it’s private, Az.”

“Oh, and coming into my rooms demanding to know what I might know of sex wasn’t at all getting into private territory. Payback is often terrible,” Azkadellia smiled smugly.

“That’s not the least bit fair. I came out here to tell you something fishy is happening and you try to pry details about my sex life out of me?” DG ignored the dog burrowing his head under her hand.

“Life is far from fair. You need only look around the palace to see more evidence than you can imagine of that. And I find myself curious, as well.” Az collected the puppy into her lap and lavished him with scratches about his ears and neck.

Ouch. That was cruel. But DG figured her own wining about fairness deserved it.

“So, did you corner him or did he corner you? Was it frantic and desperate, like one of those novels young ladies aren’t supposed to read?” Az was grinning, but her eyes were serious.

DG felt herself turning red; the heat on her face near unbearable.

“It was mutual, and he was a gentleman.” DG kicked at the pavement, hoping that was enough.

“A gentleman? DG, I may not know much on the subject, but a gentleman in bed sounds rather boring. You’re not doing anything for Cain’s reputation. Maybe he’s too old. Takes a while, you know…”

“Azkadellia!” DG felt she must be beet red by now. “He knew it was my first… and he tried to make it perfect. I was a bit of a brat, seeing how he was doing everything too well, for your information, and there were fireworks and stars and the earth moved and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk straight… and did I just say that?”

Az laughed. Normally DG loved to hear her sister laugh, as it was a rare thing.

DG felt her mouth drop open. “You just manipulated me and I walked right into it.” 

“You have to watch out for that, little sister. Lots of people will try to manipulate you.” She was still giggling.

“And why the sudden curiosity on your part? Hmm… Seems to me there might be someone you’re interested in experimenting with?” DG dug in for some payback.

“What?” Az looked genuinely shocked. “Who? If this is because I’ve been spending so much time with Ambrose lately, I just felt so guilty, and then he was just so likeable. A bit like Gregory. He’s a great friend, but lover material? Definitely not. He deserves someone sweet and kind, and at least smart enough to understand some of the things he rambles on about.”

“Glitch? Nope, that one never really crossed my mind. You two are more like… like he’s a mutual, older brother.” DG knew her sister was clever enough to throw out decoys as well.

“The only other man I’ve been spending a lot of time with is Raw, and if you think, for one moment, I view him that way… He’s a mentor, a… friend, and, I suppose he is easy to love, but I prefer men a bit less… furry. It would kill any attraction. I’m terribly shallow, I know.” Az actually looked guilty as she said the last bit. 

“I was thinking a bit more blonde and blue-eyed. Oh, eight or nine years younger than you, but I know as well as anyone that judgments in that area are just plain silly.” DG reached over to pet Gregory, who offered a puppy smile.

“Hmm? Oh my God, you cannot be serious. He’s one of my bodyguards.”

At that DG made a checkmark in the air. “Like that never happens.”

“He’s… too young.”

“Covered that. Not that young. He led a whole lot of men, many older than him, and led them well. Still does. Very mature for his age.” DG waved her hand.

“He… wanted me dead,” Az pointed out.

“So did most of the O.Z. But now he knows the truth, and he’s put himself in a position to take a bullet for you,” DG countered.

“His father is sleeping with my sister,” Az huffed.

“Admittedly, creepy. Possibly therapy-inducing. But you’re listing arguments like a thought-out checklist there. Not like you did about Glitch and Raw. Plus… he gave you a puppy because he thought you needed it. Because he cares. That’s way above chocolates and flowers.” DG stood and brushed off her pants. 

‘There,’ she managed to keep Az from digging for more sex details. ‘Put her on the defensive.’

“You have a very sick and twisted mind, DG.” Az put Gregory down .

“So I’ve been told. Now, I have to go find my bodyguard. Which is totally out of character. He’s usually waiting in the hall when I get out of my history lessons. Which goes back to ‘something’s going on.’” DG started for the door leading back into the palace. “Have fun with your puppy.”


	14. Dance of Betrayal

“The problem is, too many of our brothers tend to know our plans; Either through being involved or boasting. So word has come down to split up small groups, only one in each knowing someone in one or two others; the others only knowing their own group. It keeps information from getting out if one is captured. And, by the time the interrogators pry the name of the person in the next group from the one in the know, that group will have moved.” The voice was whispered. 

Two men sat in the shadows of a tavern. It was dirty under the subdued lighting, but the drinks were cheap. So were the whores.

“Problem with that is, one group could still get infiltrated by a spy. Not knowing who’s with you leaves you wide open.” A second voice kept low.

“But, they’d only get information on that one small group. Unless the brothers involved are idiots.” The first speaker took a drink of ale. “Like you only knowing me.”

The second shrugged and took a swallow of his own beer. “Doesn’t matter to me. As long as we get this done. I can’t stand this charade much longer.” 

“You’re our ace in the hole. You could kill any of them, at any time. My contact still doesn’t trust you, as you haven’t yet. Especially the weak, deluded bitch on the throne,” Gruff voice sneered.

“Just because I want to see that family gone, doesn’t mean I’m suicidal. I like to keep breathing, thanks.” The second narrowed his eyes. “I suspect you’ve got someone else in the palace, eh? Maybe if they could guarantee a way for me to escape, and it seems plausible, then I’ll do it.”

Gruff shook his head. “No one knows more than one, except the leaders. Especially you. Might need independent planning,” Gruff smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Too many are well aware that your dear papa is fucking the little whore.”

Jeb Cain leaned forward into a patch of dull light. “Don’t remind me. If we have to take him out as well… it won’t bother me much. He used to be a hero. Now, he’s some lecherous old fool, panting after some bitch two years older than me. He’s begging scraps. Even taken to wearing a uniform to look impressive. He disgusts me.”

“How’s the plan with the tracking device working?” Gruff seemed satisfied with the younger Cain’s answer.

Jeb grinned. “Easy as it comes. I gave the Sorceress a cute little puppy. The tracking spell will let you know where she is. She’s never without the thing now.”

“Clever. You might just prove yourself yet.” Gruff downed his drink and left without another word.

Jeb winked at an over-painted whore working the bar. She smiled at him and sashayed over to sit in his lap.

***

“You know I’m gonna to figure this out,” DG leaned against Glitch.

“I know you will, doll. And we’ll all have a good laugh.” He nodded. “We’ll all have a good laugh. We’ll all…” 

DG elbowed him in the ribs and he stuttered to a stop. “What?” He looked at her in surprise.

“You were glitching, again,” Azkadellia smiled softly at him. She sat in a chair next to the sofa her sister and friend were sharing. Gregory was asleep in her lap and she kept petting him in an almost compulsive manner.

“I was? Oops.” Glitch leaned his head against the back of the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. “Is that cherub giving the finger to the lady in the middle?”

The two women looked up. 

“It was probably supposed to be pointing up, it’s his forefinger,” DG hypothesized.

“Well, with the way the paint flaked off here and there… it does look suspicious.” Az turned her head to look at a slightly different angle.

“You have an overly-artistic ceiling, Azy,” Glitch pointed out.

“Azy?” Azkadellia arched a brow at the only male in the room.

“Nothing wrong with Azy,” He insisted.

DG looked to the clock on the mantle they were sitting near. “In forty minutes, I’m going to sneak, most likely without success, down the hall and find out where Cain has been all day.”

“You set a time for the horizontal mambo?” Glitch looked at her like she was crazy. “That is kind of… sad and pathetic, really. The romance is gone already.” 

“You try finding together time with his crazy schedule. The last week, he’s been working on some security thing. He won’t tell me more than that. I really hate how close-lipped he gets about what he does when he isn’t following me around. That’s one of the things we have got to discuss tonight.” DG looked genuinely upset.

“I know what you need,” Az announced, setting Gregory down. The pup woke with a start and looked up adoringly at the elder princess. “You need chocolate. I bet there’s something in the kitchens.”

“Oooh, kitchen raid! Let’s get to it.” Glitch jumped up.

It was hard to sneak with two guards trailing at a discreet distance. But the three pretended they were anyway.

The two princesses stepped into cold storage.

“Oooh, cake. Chocolate cake.” DG grabbed it and watched Azkadellia sneak a slice of thinly-shaved ham from a paper-wrapped bundle.

The two emerged with their prizes and, as DG cut the half a cake left and plated it up for three, Az fed ham to Gregory. Glitch was pouring milk into glasses. 

“I haven’t done this in…” Glitch started.

“Hmm?” DG looked up just in time to see Glitch topple over, a glass of milk shattering on the floor.

“Gli…” Az stood, then grabbed her arm - there was a dart protruding from it - and she collapsed. 

It was barely two seconds. Instead of screaming for the guards outside the door, DG looked for the source of the threat to attack back.

She saw a familiar face standing in the servants’ entrance, and her eyes widened just as a sharp pain hit her shoulder. 

Everything went black.


	15. Follow the Lead

Wyatt Cain paced back and forth in the single room Jeb had been assigned a year ago. His son was late, and Cain was trying to quiet the churning in his gut by reminding himself that Jeb wasn't a kid any more, but a man who was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Jeb finally arrived and tore open his jacket, flinging it at a chair.

"I need a shower. I always feel like I need to scrub off two layers of skin after those things," Jeb growled as he moved.

"I seem to recall objecting to your doing this." Wyatt's grey-blue eyes followed his son as he moved around the room.

"And I'm still the only one who can. Come on, Dad, the Resistance knew me. I use you as believable motivation. No one else has those assets." Jeb dug clothing from a dresser beside his bed. "Doesn't mean I have to like it. If you'd have heard me, I'd be missing some teeth right about now. And drugging a woman isn't exactly good for the conscience either." He reached into his pocket and pulled out three white pills.

"You drugged someone?" The elder Cain was genuinely surprised, and not sure he was too happy with that.

"They had to be watching me, even after the meet. I employed the services of a lady of ill repute and took her to the nearest hourly hotel with a bottle of cheap wine. She'll wake up with a hangover headache, no memory and cash on the nightstand." Jeb moved into the small, private bathroom that was one of the perks of being Captain of the Guard. He left the door open so he could still talk.

"Did you get anything?" Cain spoke through the opening of the bathroom door.

"Other than nauseous? Yeah. You're right, they're splitting into small groups, difficult to trace. They also have someone in the castle, besides me, that is. How they got past the Viewers is beyond me. I tried to see if the mole had another contact, to help me get out if I murdered the Queen in her sleep, but the guy wasn't biting." Water began to run. "Oh, and you're a real popular guy in some circles. They'd love to see you watch before slitting your throat. You're too good at your job. And they still don't trust me completely. But baiting me with you only got me whining about what a sniveling loser you are."

"Gee, thanks," Cain drawled as he sat in the nearest chair. "Is that it?"

Jeb emerged still damp, and wearing only the pants he'd rooted out. He finished dressing in clean clothing. Cain noticed it all. The boy really did have a deep loathing for his role.

"For now. Give it some more time. They like that tracking device by the way. They'll doubtless test it. When this is over that poor dog deserves a metal, or at least a good steak."

Wyatt's lips quirked a bit. He was about to quiz Jeb further when a screeching siren cut through the air.

They looked at each other, and spoke in one voice. "Azkadellia."

Gregory the Greyhound not only had a tracking device under his skin, but an alarm. If Az was any further than one end of the palace grounds to the other from the dog, an alarm would sound there, in Wyatt's room and in the Guard's wing.

They checked her room first. One of Az's guards, and one of DG's, were already heading their way. "The kitchens, Sir. They went with Lord Ambrose. Only two of us went with them."

Cain would have their asses later.

The two guards' that had escorted the princesses were down just inside the kitchen door. Their weapons had been drawn. Darts stuck from their chests. Further in the kitchen Glitch lay on the floor surrounded by broken glass and spilled milk. He was breathing. The darts weren't lethal, thank the Light. Cain pulled the dart free of Ambrose's chest.

"Glitch… Glitch…" Wyatt slapped at his friend's cheeks.

"ages!" Glitch sat up suddenly. "Ow." He reached for the spot where the dart the Tin Man had pulled out had been.

"Morning, sweetheart. Where are DG and Az?" Glitch looked up to see something unusual. Wyatt Cain was scared.

"I don't know. We were going to have cake and my chest stung then…" He shook his head, "nothing."

"Dad." Jeb held up the puppy, who let out pitiful, pained yelps. "Looks like he was kicked across the room and hit the bricks of the hearth.

Jeb carefully placed the dog on Glitch's lap. "You and the pup to the Healers. See Raw. They used the servants' entrance. There had to be more than one to carry off both princesses."

"You two," Cain pointed at the two guards checking on their partners. "One of you get a Healer down here, the other get the squad of fifteen Jeb trained. The alarm's sounded so they should be ready. Tell them to get their assess out to the stables triple time."

"I'm going with you." Glitch argued and tried to stand. As the room seemed to spin he crashed back to the floor, sending Gregory into another pitiful yelping spell.

"Right. You left your dancing shoes in your room. Sit this one out." Cain's voice brooked no argument, and Glitch was not stupid. He had to know he was in no condition to help.

"Always the wallflower." He sighed.

Cain and Jeb headed down the servant's entrance. It was a tunnel that led to the area where food deliveries and other trucks came and went.

"We had guards posted at the entrance." Jeb pointed out.

Unfortunately, the two guards were dead. One shot in the head, the other through the throat.

Cain bent down and picked up a piece of pasta covered in sauce. "They got out in a garbage truck." He pointed to a pile down the road to the bridge. "At least it was horse drawn."

This area was kept clean. That pile was recent.

"They drugged them, so they want them alive." Jeb pointed out as the two men ran to the stables.

It wasn't reassuring. Jeb had heard what they wanted to do. So had Wyatt ininterrogations. They had to catch that truck before it joined a gathering of any kind.


	16. Pause and Turn

DG was first aware of the smell: it was the stench of… garbage. Food turning over. Then, she was aware of the pain. Both of her shoulders hurt and her forearms burned; her arms were tied behind her back, but not just at the wrists. No, her arms were forced back, bond forearms overlapping. She couldn’t wriggle around to slip her behind and legs through her arms this way. Great.

She was lying in garbage. Un-namable juices seeped into her nightgown and robe; something she was certain was a bone, poked into her ass; and there was something squishy behind her head. Over her, a tarp, covered by a light weight that pressed down just a bit over her body. This was bad. And gross, definitely gross.

She could feel the garbage bed jerking about and hear the distinctive sound of horses moving at a good clip. The stench and the movement made her nauseous, and the feel of lying in garbage made it so very hard not to vomit. But, then she’d add one more disgusting thing to the mix, and she didn’t want the kidnappers to see her lying in her own puke, as well as the trash.

Henrik, the chef’s assistant, had shot them with something. The guy had been so nice - not to mention, kinda cute. He’d watched as DG taught the chef about hash browns, pizza and a proper club sandwich. He’d saved pieces of blueberry pie for her, knowing she liked it so much. He’d SHOT them. And Glitch. 

He could have poisoned them any time. What was she going to do now? DG knew she had to form some sort of plan.

She heard a whimper to her left. 

Azkadellia.

“Hey,” she whispered, hoping she could be heard by her sister and not Henrik and whoever he had with him.

“DG?” Az whispered back. She wasn’t asking if it was her, rather what they were going to do.

“It’ll be all right.” DG tried to sound confident, Making assurances she knew she couldn’t keep. “The guard is, most likely, right on their heels. That’s why they’re moving so fast.”

“Only takes a moment to die.” Az sounded resigned. “I’m sorry DG. For everything.”

“Stop it. We aren’t gonna die. And we are definitely not going to die in a pile of stinking garbage,” DG hissed at her sister. 

Okay. Her Tin Man could track her robo-parents through the forest when DG couldn’t even see a damned scuffmark in the dirt. Compared to that, a wagon on the road was a snap. 

If no hue and cry went up beforehand, he’d be looking for her within ninety minutes of their being taken. He’d give her about an hour past the time they were going to meet.

He and the guard would be following on horses, not burdened with a wagon. So she had to, somehow, buy time, if not manage to get the two of them out of this on her own. 

God, her shoulders hurt. She tried to wiggle her fingers, and was aware they were there, but they were cold and... was that coffee grounds?

DG was determined that she and Az hadn’t lived through so much this far, to end up dead in the O.Z.’s version of the Bog of Eternal Stench.

***

“Where are they going?” Jeb was hard-pressed to talk on a racing horse, as his teeth clacked together. Behind them, twelve men and three women, in black uniforms, rode just as hard. 

“I’m betting the ruins of Civan castle. Secluded, part-open. Best bet.” His father kept the answer short. No one found it east to talk on a horse running full-on.

There was an overgrown wagon trail to the ruins of the old castle as well. 

“They might figure we’d think of that,” Jeb pointed out.

“Might figure they have more time,” was the reply. 

***

The wagon stopped and the tarp was ripped back. Both princesses glared up at Henrik and three others. None of them looked monstrous; no broken noses or squared jaws. ‘But then, Ted Bundy looked normal, too,’ DG reminded herself.

“Sleep well, your Highnesses? Found the perfect bed for you. Were you comfortable?” The speaker looked to be fifty or so; graying, but still strong and broad-shouldered.

“Yeah, thanks for the snack on the way, boys. I was feeling a bit hungry.” DG knew getting them even more angry was not exactly safe, but might buy precious seconds.

Four pair of hands moved to haul her out of the garbage. She kicked and bucked against them, making them work for it. She was proud to see Az was putting up just as much a fight, being bound in the same manner.

Once out of the wagon, DG felt a harsh blow send her upper body twisting. Without her arms for balance, she hit the ground, hard. The side of her face burned, and the cheekbone around her eye started to throb. DG had never been backhanded before, but she’d seen it happen in the parking lot of the diner. Why did they always go for the cheekbone? And no waitress was gonna call the cops here.

“Just like a big man. Smack around someone smaller than you while you have them tied up. I bet you gutted cats for fun as a boy.”

She was being pulled upright again. Tough guy just smirked. “I don’t like the smell of these sluts’ perfume. What you say we give ‘em a bath?”

DG couldn’t see much in the dark, but she could make out an irrigation pond she and Az were being pulled toward. She managed to hook an ankle around the leg of the guy to her right and twist them both. No arms meant her center of gravity was off, but, as she landed half atop the guy dragging her on the right, she brought her foot up and pounded her heel onto the downed lefty’s chest. Damn. She was going for the throat.

Once more, she was hauled upright, but she had the satisfaction of hearing Lefty dragging in harsh breaths.

Tough guy smiled and then placed an upper jab right to her stomach. DG lost her long battle and threw up. At least it was on him, as the pain wracked through her body.

“DG!” Az was screaming.

“Give ‘em a dip boys,” Tough guy ordered.

DG felt the wooden dock under her feet, spongy with age. She had just enough time to take a gasping breath before she hit the frigid water. In pain, between her stomach and shoulders mostly, she tried scissoring her legs as she aimed for the surface.

But her bound arms held her back. 

‘The human body floats,’ she chanted in her head, over and over, and turned her face up to the moonlight she could see through the water. She tried to get her body in the position she used while floating in the YMCA pool.

It was working; she was heading up, but her lungs were burning.

Someone grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up, breaking the surface. Now, her scalp was burning as she pulled in great lungfulls of air. Some strange part of her somewhat hazy mind had the terrifying thought of how they might pull up Azkadellia, with her hair so short now.

In seconds, she was shoved back under by the pressure on her head. 

She could hear the laughter above the water.


	17. Switching Partners

Both DG and Az were shivering by the time they were pulled into the ruins of some very large building. They were soaked from the cold water, their nightgowns clinging to them and they dripped with every fighting step.

There was no roof to the ruins, just bits of crumbling wall. Inside bonfires were burning and small groups of men were starting to walk towards a large waist high stone. It had once been a square pillar, but they made it a stage. DG was reminded of old Tarzan movies with tribes dancing around the fires while the heroes were prepared for sacrifice. It was not a comfortable reminder. At least there were no drums. It was bad when they stopped.

There was some sort of device on a stand facing the makeshift stage. She had the distinct impression they were filming this. Maybe to play back with something like Glitches little 3D thingamajig.

The men all sneered or leered at the women as they were pushed forward. Neither DG nor Az were going to make any of this easy. Seconds, DG kept reminding herself. But time. Even seconds count. 

“What we have here is the sluts of the Gale dynasty. The Sorceress, who held us all in fear, who tortured and killed so many.” They pushed and pulled Az up makeshift stairs onto the stone stage. “And the so called savior, who corrupted the minds of the good people of the Outer Zone.”

DG was likewise maneuvered up. But care was taken to control her feet after her earlier attack.

Two men with knives approached both women. DG refused to flinch from his gaze. In fact she offered him a happy smile. Her knee came up, not at the groin he had instinctively blocked, but at his stomach. She grunted with the force and he was at least winded as her leg came down, and with a spin she hit him in the bent head with her heel, sending him off the stage.

Hands were instantly on her shoulders, forcing her to her knees.

“Jakes, you get first go for that.” Henrick called down from his place beside Old Tough Guy.

“We’re going to use you both like the whores you are.” DG felt her insides churn and her bowels turning to liquid as fear gripped her for the first time. “And then we’re gonna take you apart piece by piece, keep you breathing as long as we can. Afterwards we’ll play it for the Whole O.Z. to see. If any fools listened to you and your stories before, all they’ll remember of you both is this.”

Another knife was produced and then men began cutting off the sister’s nightgowns.

No! Nonononono.

Azkadellia screamed.

****

Jeb made a series of hand signals. The fires inside the ruins were like a beacon. Jeb’s guerilla troops got off their horses and spread out, armed with knives, rifles and handguns. They were going to take down the guards and get into position. They had painted their faces black. These men and women fought from concealment. They’d used the tactics against Longcoats for years, although not as well armed.

Jeb had spent extra time with them. Wyatt didn’t like it, but his son was an efficient and swift killer when he had to be. Those eight years Wyatt had been in the hellish suit had been just as cruel to Jeb in their own way.

Atop a slight rise they had a pretty good view.

“We need a diversion.” Wyatt’s hand was white knuckled on his gun. He was visibly trembling as they watched DG and AZ get dragged into the ruin.

“Yeah, about that. Sorry, Dad.” Jeb’s fist swung out of nowhere to land solidly on Wyatt’s jaw. The suddenness and surprise as much as the force knocked him down.

***

Jeb’s gun ground into his father’s back as he pushed him towards the ruin. The Tin Man’s hands were bound behind him by the wrists. He had blood matting his pale blond hair and it ran heavily down the side of his face, just missing his eye, staining his shirt and vest. His holster was empty and he still looked as if he were in shock.

The First guards at the entrance held their guns on both. 

“I understand Visor wanted to make him watch before slitting his throat.” Jeb grinned at the guards.

Inside the ruin, Azkadellia screamed. Wyatt looked up, his face turning red with rage as his son kicked him into the ruin and shot his gun into the sky before once more using it to propel the elder Cain forward.

“A gift for Visor. I don’t want anyone to doubt where my loyalties lay.” Jeb announced.

The Tin Man looked defiant, and angry, his face bruised and bleeding. He saw DG on the rock, her gown cut open as two men held her down by her shoulders. She was pale, shaking, and had tears running down her face. He tried to convey an apology with his eyes. He wanted to kill every one of the Reeges here. ALL of them.

DG was looking from him to Jeb in total shock.

“Oh God, Wyatt.” He could read the words on her lips.


	18. Quick Step

The man known as Visor leaned over DG and boldly caressed her breast, while critical eyes fell on Jeb Cain; weighing, judging. DG felt ready to throw up again; her skin crawled and she felt more sullied than being in the garbage truck. She looked away, unable to make herself look at what this was doing to Wyatt. 

She was terrified for herself, Az and Wyatt. What the hell had happened to Jeb? He couldn’t be a traitor, he just couldn’t. But he made no move to stop Tough Guy Visor. And what must Wyatt be going through? He was, once more, helpless while evil people hurt those he cared about. 

“Would you like some of this?” Visor squeezed her breast painfully, but she refused to make a sound. “See what Daddy found so good.”

Jeb smiled. “Now there’s a proposition a man would find hard to refuse.”

A sudden gunshot split the air, then another, as the two men nearest those holding DG and Azkadellia developed sudden holes in the middle of their foreheads and slumped down, falling from the stage. 

There was a moment of shocked silence from the audience.

“Diversion’s over,” Jeb muttered and aimed his gun over his father’s head, right for the guy behind Az.

Wyatt slipped his hands from the loose ropes and pulled his gun from under his vest, where it was tucked under his belt. Swinging his arm around, he sighted down Visor, who reacted by grabbing DG and hauling her up before him, a human shield.

“Kill them! Kill them!” he was shouting to the Reeges around him.

But the Shadow squad was shooting from outside the ruins. Lying on rough stone, standing behind remains of walls, Jeb’s people had killed the guards silently, with knives and taken up positions to pick off the suddenly-confused people crowding in front of the stage. They were indiscriminate, not caring if they shot in the back, or while someone was trying to hide.

Wyatt and Jeb split up - separate targets were harder to hit than a combined one. Leaping over two bodies, the Tin Man nearly slipped on the blood turning the dirt to mud. That slight correction of balance likely saved his life, as he felt a rush of air past his ear; hearing the bullet, meant for his head, go by.

He dropped and rolled, tumbling over another body. The only thing that mattered was getting to DG… and Azkadellia, of course.

On the toppled pillar, DG bowed her head. Thank God: Jeb was no traitor. Then she snapped her head back in one sharp move. The back of her head collided with the face of the man who held her. The impact was painful, and made the ruins lose focus for a moment, but the satisfying crunching noise and shriek made up for it. As Visor staggered back, his nose broken and lip split, DG side-kicked him so he fell backwards off the stage.

She turned to the man who held her sister with the knife he had used to cut Azkadellia’s nightgown open. 

DG’s shoulders were on fire. She couldn’t feel much more than a tingling prickle where her fingers used to be. Her head was throbbing and her stomach ached from the giant bruise she knew she had to have. And, she was pretty much naked. 

Her smile showed teeth; no way was she going down without a fight. No way was he hurting her sister.

Something white-hot burned across her upper arm, but she didn’t pause as she started to circle the man. DG looked into her sister’s wide open eyes, Az ‘s eyes narrowed and she nodded. Suddenly Azkadellia went completely limp, making the man try to hold her dead weight without warning, knocking him off balance and dropping herself by inches. 

DG spun and rudely introduced the Reege’s temple with the side of her foot. She so owed Glitch, a dozen times over, for those dancing lessons.

The man fell, dragging Az with him. DG dropped and rolled to her sister, twisting so they were back to back.

“Azkadellia, take my hands.”

Numb fingers clutched to entwine with other numb fingers. It was enough. There was a faint glow between their backs, slowly getting brighter.

***

Wyatt caught bits of DG fighting her captors. Pride rose up alongside the rage and fear currently choking him. That was his girl.

Bullets were zipping everywhere, seeking flesh and bone. It looked more like a massacre than a battle. Those twelve men and three women were hidden in the night, already under good cover, outside the glow of the fires that blinded everyone in the ruins to anything beyond the flames’ glow. The perfect snipers.

No good Tin Man went in without back up if it could be avoided.

Wyatt sighted and fired, taking down three men before he had to crouch behind some rubble to reload. He was on the move again, cutting through the confusion of the Reeges firing into the night. He was aware that friendly fire was a risk as well. His world sank into sight, fire, duck for cover, run. In moments he had killed more men than he had previously in his entire life.

Someone tried to rush him and he swung out with his left fist, knuckles met teeth and the teeth lost as the attacker fell backwards. Wyatt kicked the man in the head as he kept moving.

He caught sight of Jeb, who was no longer holding his gun, but a rather large knife. Jeb faced another man with a knife and they circled one another. Jeb held his blade facing down, the flat back of it lying along his arm. The other man struck and Jeb blocked with his forearm as his knife arm slashed out for his opponent’s neck. The man jumped back, getting caught along the clavicle instead. 

There was a flurry of movement, slashing, blocking as both men danced around one another, moving out of each other’s range then spinning back in. It was graceful. It was deadly. Jeb had a cut across his cheek dripping blood and a long slash opened his left pant leg, blood visible there as well. He moved as if he didn’t feel it. 

The opponent rushed Jeb, who spun out of the way, blade flashing and laying open his challenger’s arm , forearm to elbow, to the bone. The man screamed with rage and pain before he rushed wildly at Jeb.

“Fuck that.” Wyatt shot and the man dropped. 

Jeb looked surprised, as he had been braced for impact. His gaze shifted and he saw his father. He raised his bloody blade in salute and continued to move toward the stone stage.

Wyatt followed suit. On the stage, a white glow had taken over the one side. Wyatt grinned, seeing the princesses back–to-back and holding hands as best they could.

Rushing up the makeshift steps, Wyatt Cain made his way to the edge of the dome of white light, only to find it a barrier to him, as well.

The bullets had stopped flying except for an occasional crack where someone in the ruins refused to stay down. All that remained was the sound of moaning, crying and the crackling of the fires. 

“DG, darlin.’ It’s okay now, you’re safe. You and Az are both safe.” The shield dropped and DG looked over at him with glazed eyes.

Her eyes opened wider and she screamed his name.

Visor had climbed the steps and was determined to take out the Tin Man with one of the knives from before.

Jeb leapt onto the stone from a taller pile of rubble and let fly. His knife buried itself deep into Visor’s throat.

Wyatt grinned at his son and tipped an imaginary hat.

“I take it he didn’t have any last words.” Jeb grinned back.

The two of them quickly cut the princesses free, both of whom whimpered as blood rushed back into their hands and their strained shoulders were released to a new kind of pain.

Below, Jeb’s people were moving through the dead and dying. They started binding wounds on those who could be saved to stand trial later. They also gave the coup-de-grace to those who had no chance at all.

Wyatt didn’t have his duster. He’d left it on the rise so he could better access his gun if their charade worked. He stripped off his vest, then his shirt and draped the shirt around DG to provide some sort of modesty. Jeb followed his example and covered up a sobbing Azkadellia who somehow pulled herself into Jeb’s lap , clinging to his waist as she wept. Jeb looked at his father, completely at a loss. Wyatt just shook his head as Jeb finally figured to wrap his arms around the anguished princess and slowly rock her back and forth.

DG was shaking terribly and, frankly, looked like hell; yet, she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Her arm was dripping blood from a flesh wound caused by a bullet, her eye was beginning to swell and her cheek bruise. She huddled into him and he hugged her close, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Marry me,” he said aloud, as his hand stroked her back.

“You have the world’s most disastrous sense of timing,” DG spoke into his chest.

“Is that a yes?” he smirked.


	19. Facing the Music

They were back at the castle. Lavender and Ahamo, clung to their daughters as if they’d never let go, had to face the uncomfortable fact that the girls needed to see the Healers, rather soon.

The sudden hugs both Cain men received from the Queen and Prince Consort was uncomfortable and embarrassing. Wyatt could see where DG got that habit.

“We can’t ever thank the two of you enough. This is the second time you have returned our daughters to us.” Queen Lavender was still a bit shaken. She looked tired, paler, brittle. Cain felt for her, both as a parent and as the one responsible for her safety as well.

Jeb Cain held back pointing out that it was, technically, their jobs. One didn’t contradict the Queen. 

His father, however, did speak up. “Your Majesties, all of us owe our lives to Jeb’s Shadow squad. They’re the ones who picked off most of the Reeges, and brought the survivors in for trial. If I may, they should be properly recognized.”

The Queen drew herself up, tall and regal, her trembling stilling for the most part. “And so it will be done. We will thank each of them individually, and they will receive recognition for service and valor.”

She turned to Jeb. “Captain Cain, we owe you further thanks for training these men and women. I think you will be requested to form a second team, very soon.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” He bowed slightly at the waist.

“And you, Commander and Captain,” she reached out to touch next to Wyatt’s head wound. “Are off to the Healers with my daughters.”

Jeb’s cheek bled from a knife slash he had received in his fight, and his leg also bore a long cut.

“It’s not nearly as bad as it looks, your Majesty.” Wyatt insisted. In truth, that little sting was nothing compared to the throbbing in his jaw. His son was a brat. A brat with a right hook like a sledgehammer.

“Mmm. All the same, off with you. I think DG may need you more than she needs her parents.”

***  
Wyatt arrived to see Raw tending to Azkadellia. The rapport between the two had grown, making him the most comforting Healer for her. Another Viewer was finishing with DG. She looked up to see Wyatt.

“Need rest and comfort most now.” The female Viewer slightly bit her lip and looked away from Cain’s eyes. Long stares were difficult, often a challenge among her people. She was just starting to get used to these humans.

DG’s swollen face was clear, but for a slight tinge of yellow. That last bit would have to heal on its own. Her worst injuries - the visible ones - were gone.

Both DG and Azkadellia were wearing thick robes they held tightly to themselves.

Cain became peripherally aware of his son entering the infirmary as well, taking up a guard position at the door instead of moving towards the Healers.

Cain opened his mouth to speak just as Glitch came running through the door and skidded to a stop. His dignified and proper clothing still did little to keep him from looking like a tussled scarecrow most of the time. Including now.

“Oh. Oh… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He hugged DG and didn’t seem to notice her flinch. Cain did. His hands curled into fists, fingernails biting into his palms.

“I should have done something, I should have done something. I should have…” DG managed a small smile as she shoved Glitch’s shoulder.

“You’re glitching again.” 

Cain wondered if he really had been, or if the too-intelligent part of Glitch used it as a tension breaker.

DG leaned forward and kissed Ambrose’s cheek. “They took you down first because they knew you’d literally kick their asses. It’s not your fault you couldn’t fight while unconscious; I couldn’t either. But you DID help. All those lessons, I put up a pretty good fight. All thanks to you.”

Glitch blushed right up to his zipper. “Well, that’s something I suppose.”

He moved over to hug Azkadellia, but she visibly pulled back before he could touch. Ambrose’s blush drained away to paler than his usual complexion. “Oh honey, what did they do?”

Az shook her head. “On display and groped but still…. I just can’t… I need a bath. Maybe a shower… I’m not sure I can face a pool of water either. Oh! Gregory!” She practically leapt off the cot-like bed in the Infirmary.

“He’s gonna be fine.” Glitch held up his hands. “A broken rib and a bruised back. But there was blood on his teeth with no mouth wounds, so he managed to bite someone. He’s in the Queen’s room. She’s been holding him as much as you do. Might have a fight on your hands.” He put on a smile.

Wyatt moved, carefully, closer to DG. She saw what he was doing and held open her arms for a hug; one he was only too happy to give. She didn’t flinch from him, but clung tightly.

After a moment, she pulled back and her fingers traced his bruised and swollen jaw. “What happened?”

“Jeb has a mean right hook; he’s taken to beating his elders.” He half grinned at his son by the door. Jeb just gave him a cheeky smile back. “He had the plan for that distraction. Thought it was fun hitting me before I knew what was coming. I might have to give him a pummeling later.” Cain was delicately tracing his own fingers over the yellowed bruise.

“It’s better. Almost gone.” She wasn’t going to tell him about the punching, or the dunking. Not yet. He didn’t need to hear it right now. “I want all kitchen garbage placed in bags from now on. I’m a princess, I’m sure I can make it a decree or something.”

He leaned back to look at her, a small and false smile on his lips.

She looked to his head and blood-crusted hair. “And that?”

“Jeb’s knife. That one, I did volunteer for. Head wounds bleed like hell, but it’s just a small cut. It was even clean.”

DG shot a glare at Jeb who just shrugged at her.

“Captain Cain… would you… could you escort me to my rooms please?” Azkadellia’s voice was soft and brittle as she took a tentative step towards the door.

“Of course, your highness.” Jeb didn’t approach her, but held out his bent arm should she care to take it. He wasn’t certain how steady her step was at the moment.

She looped her hand in his arm without hesitation. However, she didn’t look him in the eye. “Thank you. For… everything.” Her words were so soft he wasn’t certain he had heard them as he led her away.

Wyatt tried not to be a bit surprised at that scene.

Raw was suddenly there, standing to the side of DG and Cain, apparently reluctant to intrude.

“Right.” DG jumped off the bed this time. “Raw, do your best with him.” She looked at Cain with promise. “He needs to clean up, and I think I need my fiancé to help scrub the filth off me.”

Raw grinned hugely, completely happy for both of them. 

Cain smiled for other reasons.


	20. Water Music

He’d killed men tonight. Several. Their blood may have hit dirt and rock, but it washed over his hands. He didn’t regret a single one of those deaths; he did, however, regret what that said about him. 

He was supposed to be an instrument of justice, an upholder of the rule of law; once a Tin Man, always a Tin Man, whether you wore the badge or not. He had killed before, in the line of duty. This was ‘in the line of duty,’ as well, but this was also out of anger, fury…

He’d planned every detail of Zero’s death for eight years; but, in the end, chose not to kill him, because it would have been in cold blood; because it wouldn’t bring Adora back, or give Jeb his innocence once more. He was not the distributor of justice; he was an instrument of it. Yet, he had passed sentence. If only for a few days.

Tonight, he had killed because he had to. To save his charges; to save the woman he loved; to save his son. Because he wanted to. He wanted to punish and to kill, and perhaps the immediacy of the gunfight was an excuse to unleash that. But he wasn’t sorry. He didn’t regret it.

He dipped his hands into the water, bubbles floating on top. The water had been drained and changed twice already. Neither time, did it run red with blood. Dirt, yes; fear even. He cupped his hands and lifted them again, letting the water pour over the silk curtain of midnight hair before him. 

His fingers dug into the strands, working up a lather, sweeping away the idea of filth from DG’s hair.

SHE had wanted a bath. Several, she insisted. She was not going to let them win. She could soak with pleasure, she even lit candles scented with something both flowery and musky. Atmosphere, she called it. Nothing frightening in here. She even had her own personal protector to watch, and wash, her back. At first she had sat still with knees drawn up before her, arms wrapped around. Defensive and small. She was small. She had so much life and energy it was hard to see. Curled into herself she looked positively tiny and fragile. By the end of the second tubful of water she had leaned back into him, her legs straightening and submerging.

She had seen him kill tonight. She had seen blood spilt and bodies broken. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him kill. The first time left her with fresh nightmares, not of witches and losing him in ice or iron, but of blood and death. That was his regret the last time he had killed. 

He’d kill again to keep her safe. Not in some intangible promise type of way. He knew it was coming. Eventually, he would kill again. He wouldn’t feel remorse for it.

He rinsed away the lather from her hair with the same gentleness he had used in sponging away the dirt and remainder of garbage from her skin. It wasn’t about sex, although he couldn’t help but react to her wet skin, her soft form cradled between his thighs. This was about making her feel clean again. Making him feel clean again. Even though he didn’t feel any pangs of conscience.

This was the first time they’d been intimate in her rooms. Somehow, it felt both wrong and right, at the same time.

The bubbles from the shampoo flowed into the tub. They were not tinged red, or even pink 

There was still blood on his hands. He wouldn’t regret it, but those blood-stained hands would do everything they could to love her; make her feel protected, safe. They wouldn’t stain her. It didn’t discomfort him.

Once, his heart had been empty. Turned to tin that slowly rusted away to nothing but tiny flakes in the hollow where once it had beat. She had started a new one growing again. The rest of the healing came from others, as well as her, but she would be the one to finish what she had started. 

Maybe he couldn’t regret killing tonight because, while she had returned to him his heart, he’d given it right back to her for safe-keeping.

He was not troubled by the satisfaction he felt at taking life.

*****

She’d hoped he hadn’t felt her shivering when they’d settled into the tub. She would not be defeated. She would not. Not by something as simple as water. Not by those who had half-drowned her. She might tremble, but she had a will of iron. She might bend, but she wouldn’t bow.

She hated seeing the murkiness of the water as he poured it over her with cupped palms. He was baptizing her with it; washing away more than the dirt, filth, fear and humiliation of this night. He was pouring it over her soul. 

He’d killed men tonight. She didn’t care. She might have killed as well, if she had to. To save him, to save her sister; possibly even out of hatred and revenge. He’d killed tonight, and it didn’t bother her. He’d come, with his son, and he’d rescued them. He’d protected them. He’d held her while she shivered and proposed after a daring victory. His hands were clean when they held her. 

They had drained the tub after that first rinse, then refilled it as they sat, letting the water rise and lap at them. He’d even added bubbles, even though they smelled of lavender. How many rough and ready Tin Men would sit in lavender scented bubbles and not care?

He’d sponged her skin using a light pressure. She wanted to scrub it with her nail brush, but he bathed each inch with gentle care. He pressed kisses to the back of her neck as he sponged her arms. But he was businesslike when it came to her breasts, even though he had lingered over the one that had been bruised by a harsh grip. He apologized without words as he soothed her still tender flesh.

This wasn’t about sex, even though she could feel his arousal at the small of her back. He was showing her that she was clean. Nothing was her fault, and he still loved and desired her.

With the third filling of the tub, he washed her hair. There was something so relaxing about it; handing over her trust to him. These hands in her hair were soothing, gentle. Alright, it was erotic as well. She wanted to feel those fingers work their magic everywhere, but they concentrated on her scalp, so careful of the bruise still on the back of her skull. His tender fingers in her hair erased the idea of other, harsher hands pulling at her scalp.

She felt a bit guilty that, so far, she had let him take care of her, and she gave nothing back but her trust. 

She took the sponge from where he had set it to do her hair. She rose up and turned to kneel between his legs. He had killed today, to save her. To save her sister. And it bothered him.

She looked directly into his stormy eyes.

“Now, it’s your turn.” She lathered the sponge with soap.


	21. Lullaby

DG lay curled into Wyatt’s side, using his shoulder for a pillow. Her right arm was lying across his ribs, and his left hand held her forearm; his thumb stroking back and forth against newly-healed skin. 

The only light was from the fading flames in the fireplace opposite the bed. Her bed was bigger than his, although they didn’t seem to use up much more space. The adrenaline had washed away before their bath and she was tired. The bath had started off tense, but, by the end, she was feeling the start of exhaustion slip in. 

Despite their obvious mutual interest, they had not made love. Cain had insisted that she was still sore and aching from her ordeal. She tried to deny it, but twining her arms around his neck made little bolts of pain shoot across her back and up her neck; her shoulders still needed time. So much for denial; she wasn’t in any condition to paddle her boat up that river.

She didn’t want to sleep, knowing her tired brain would try to process the night with nightmares. How many horrific variations could play through her sleep?

“You’re not sleeping.” His tone was slightly chiding.

“Obviously, neither are you,” she pointed out.

“Most likely the same reason,” he sighed. “You wanna tell me about the remains of that bruise on your stomach?”

“Not particularly, no. Thanks.” She burrowed her cheek against his skin.

“Wanna try that answer again?”

DG let out a sigh. He wasn’t going to let this go. “I got punched in the stomach for attacking one of those jerks dragging me around.”

She felt his hand tighten on her forearm, and he tensed. She tightened her arm across his ribs in response. “He’s dead, Jim. Jeb kinda put a freakin’ Bowie knife through his throat. He's passed on. He is no more. He has ceased to be. He is an ex-asshole.” 

“I wasn’t there. I should have been guarding you. This wouldn’t have happened…”

DG cut him off. “Bullshit. You’d have been darted, too. They would have hit you first, before Glitch. They’d have tied you up and dragged you along for the ride, but it would have been real. No one’s to blame, except Henrik and those damn New Regency Alliance people.”

“Henrik’s alive,” Wyatt admitted softly. “He was hit in the shoulder, and in the gut. He might not make it to stand trial. Saves the hangman some effort if he doesn’t.”

She was glad he told her. It was bothering him, that the traitor had survived the battle. He was sharing that with her, which meant a lot.

“Sleep, kiddo. I’ll keep watch,” he murmured into her hair.

And, oddly enough, she did. When the inevitable nightmares came, she was vaguely aware of strong arms around her and a gentle shake that brought her just far enough awake to remove the dreams.

***

Across the hallway, in another suite of rooms, Azkadellia was glad the mirror in her bathroom was fogged with the thick steam. Her skin was red from the heat of the water and the scrubbing she had done. The scars on her arms and thighs stood out, white, against that red. The ones she had placed there, with a knife. She wasn’t certain she could face another knife right away.

She dressed in a high-necked, cotton nightgown - crisp and clean - and grabbed a robe much too thick for the temperature in the castle, but comforting all the same.

She had asked Captain Cain to stay on impulse and out of fear. She knew she was weak, but couldn’t help it. He had left to clean up himself. Raw was taking the sofa in her sitting room, and the bedroom door would remain open.

Jeb was already standing by the window when she returned to the bedroom and she blushed. How could she have forgotten he’d seen her naked? He’d also offered comfort. And, right now, he looked uncomfortable. She almost told him to leave.

But he had pulled a chair and footstool not too far from her bed.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to be such an inconvenience. But… you make me feel safe for some reason.”

Jeb tilted his head a bit. “It’s no inconvenience, your Highness. I’m used to guarding you.” Although, that usually entailed following her about when she was outside the safety of the castle.

“Jeb, my name… it’s Azkadellia. Az, if you prefer.” She slid under the covers of her bed.

Jeb settled himself in the chair, preparing for a long night. Once, he’d hated what this woman represented. Now… he knew she wasn’t the witch at all. She was broken, fragile; maybe she would never be whole again. But he hoped this night hadn’t permanently stolen her too-rare smile. She had a lovely smile.

***

DG awoke to full sunlight streaming in from the large window that overlooked the balcony. Wyatt was already awake and dressed, in clean clothes; he had to have left long enough to collect them from his room. He sat in the window seat; his back against the wall, one leg on the floor and the other bent, his boot on the cushion. Backlit like that, he was stunning. DG’s fingers itched for her sketchbook.

“Wha’ time is’t?” DG rubbed the sand from her eyes with the back of her hand.

“’Bout noon. Your schedule has been cleared for the day.” He still looked sad and haunted. 

No wonder he was at the window. When troubled or uncomfortable, he sought the out-of-doors or the biggest window in the vicinity. 

He never said a word; never let it stop him, but she had noticed his claustrophobia. The tension in him when in a room that was cramped and small or without windows. DG had feigned feeling sick when she and Az had toured the Northern diamond mine that helped fuel the economy quite a bit. Wyatt had been so tense, she was afraid he’d snap, and there was a sheen of perspiration in the chill air. Her ‘illness’ got them out of the mine. She still didn’t know if he realized she was aware of it, and certainly didn’t think less of him for it.

“C’mere,” he held out his one arm.

She slid from the bed and snatched her robe, wrapping it tightly around her before moving to stand beside him. He pulled her in to sit on the window seat in front of him, her back to his chest. He held her close with one arm, and the other reached in front of her, holding something in his fingers. Something that glinted brilliantly in the sunlight. She reached out a shaking hand and took the ring. It was not big, or ostentatious. It was modest and perfect. She suddenly knew, without knowing how, that the stone had been from the Northern mine. He knew.

“I planned on asking you this weekend. In the stables, actually, where we first kissed. But I kinda blew it last night. I didn’t want to wait another second. However, I didn’t have this, and you’re right, the timing wasn’t the best. So… Princess Dorothea Glinda Gale of the House of Gale, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

DG slid the ring onto her finger. Everything was shimmering, and she realized she was starting to cry.

“You’re too much, you know that? If you didn’t get the message last night, you are so stuck with me. Of course I’m going to marry you.” She turned her head so she could look up, sideways at him. 

His kiss was soft, slow and sweet. 

“We have to tell my parents, you know. “ She looked at the sparkle of the ring on her finger. Other than her locket, she wasn’t one who often wore jewelry. But this was never coming off.

“Yeah, about that…”


	22. Tarantula

Wyatt’s idea of a cleared schedule was a lot different than hers. But then, she was glad - somewhere in the back of her mind - that justice moved much the same in the O.Z. as beyond the veil.

A Lieutenant Haas had joined them on a large balcony, overlooking the valley and woodlands, where they were shaded from the early afternoon suns. He kept nervously fingering a very large file as he had her relive her ordeal. The Tin Man, seated across the small table from DG, kept looking nervously at Wyatt Cain, who stood behind DG; one hand on the back of the garden chair, the other on DG’s shoulder. DG couldn’t see her own Tin Man’s face, but she could guess when he was glowering, or trying to keep his calm, by the tension of his hand. She was glad she couldn’t see his reactions, as she wasn’t sure she could manage this while watching his anger and guilt. But his presence was much needed.

The Lieutenant seemed both in awe of, and intimidated by, Wyatt. Evidently, stories flew; and, no doubt, grew in the telling. And Haas had the sharp eyes of a cop, not that it was easy to miss the glinting ring on DG’s finger.

In a different part of the castle, the Commissioner was going through this with Az. She had Raw and Jeb with her; she needed the extra support of Raw, ready to intervene when she couldn’t take any more. DG worried, even as she recounted everything and identified pictures of the few faces she remembered. Most of the faces had been a blur. 

“There was a recording…” DG shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, your Highness. Um… Commander Cain ordered that only one technician look at it and edit it to preserve the, er, modesty of both you and Princess Azkadellia. After that, it will be used to prosecute.” Haas looked nervously over DG’s head once more.

“Thank you.” She reached across herself to squeeze Wyatt’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. She had no idea how the gesture echoed her parents.

“You have everything you need, Lieutenant?” Cain’s voice brooked no argument.

“Yes, sir.” Haas stood and bowed to DG before beating a rather hasty retreat.

Cain moved to sit beside DG. He looked paler than usual. “You didn’t tell me…”

“No, I didn’t. Reliving it two times was enough. And it would only add to your own guilt and anger. You didn’t need that. Yet, despite not telling you… you helped me deal with it. You made it easier, just by being you.”

DG stood this time, and Cain moved to stand as well, always the gentleman. But she waved him down as she circled to sit across his lap, her arms about his shoulders and her head buried in his neck. For now, she would let him see her need for comfort. He was her rock, and she needed a different kind of protection at this moment.

“Can we not talk about this for a little while? A day or two. Not forever. I think a bit of distance will help. You’ve heard it all now.”

She felt him lean his cheek against the top of her hair. 

For a moment, Wyatt Cain was deeply aware of how young DG was. She was such a force of nature most of the time, that it was easy to allow himself to forget. But he was aware that his feelings were not the least bit fatherly. He wanted to take this away from her, to make it better, somehow. And he did feel the guilt. How could he not? It was his duty to protect her. A job he’d taken before he’d really known her; a job he’d taken officially… and it was his duty, as a man, to protect his love. 

He’d failed before. He’d failed and had to relive that failure, well past the point he became numb. Until last night, he was making up for his failure, to some degree. If he’d lost DG… that way lay madness. He’d managed to save both DG and Azkadellia, with help; he knew he wouldn’t have been able to alone. 

“Stop it,” DG muttered into his neck. “You’re going all broody on me. The word ‘if’ is not allowed, for either of us. We only get to think ‘is’.” 

“When did you get so smart?” he grumbled.

“I’ve been in so many damn classes, something had to sink in. Speaking of… maybe we could share some classes. We could pass notes, shoot spitballs at the teacher from straws,” she chuckled.

“No making fun of the old guy having to sit through lessons.” He tried to sound put out.

“Good thing I’m only making fun of you, then. No ‘old guys’ involved.” She placed her hand on his jaw and urged him to look at her. 

She examined the yellowing mark there, making a match to the yellow blotch on her cheek and around her eye. “Poor baby.” 

She kissed him. It wasn’t timid, or tentative.

She pulled away at the sound of a throat clearing. She blushed, as did Wyatt, seeing Commissioner Garalli standing in the doorway to the balcony. She quickly removed herself from Cain’s lap and had to hide her amusement at the particular shade of red his ears and cheeks could achieve.

“We’re about done here, Wyatt.” Frank Garalli had been a Tin Man when Wyatt had been, and longer; he remembered Wyatt Cain as a fresh-faced recruit. He’d joined the resistance, as well, but he’d had no family to protect, and he’d gone to ground as a fighter. Now, he was the Head of the Tin Men all over the O.Z. DG looked at the hat in the man’s hands: Leather - less of a fedora and more like a cowboy hat. He always reminded DG of Sam Elliot, and the mustache didn’t do much to dispel the comparison.

“You know, your boy has a very dangerous-looking knife.” Garalli pulled a cheroot from his duster, lit it with a match and stuck it between his lips. DG wondered if he ever seared that mustache.

“I had noticed,” Cain stated, as if discussing the weather.

“You know, he is the Captain of the Guard. Gotta remember he can order us off the grounds and all those uniforms would frog march us out at gunpoint. All the while I was taking the princess’ statement, he kept toyin’ with that knife hilt, kinda like you do with your gun. Not exactly subtle.” Garalli let out a stream of smoke.

“He has a gun, too,” Wyatt pointed out.

“Yep. But he really likes that knife.” There was a hint of a smile under the whiskers. “Got myself thrown out of the room for upsettin’ the girl. Really sorry ‘bout that. You know the questions we had to ask. I interviewed her Highness, to make sure she’d be handled as delicate as possible.”

“Jeb takes his duties personally.” Cain nodded to his old friend.

“Sure does. Like his pa in that way, as well, I’m thinkin’.” The head Tin Man gave a bow to DG. “Your Highness, I’m sorry we had to talk under these circumstances. I’ll see you all too soon, Cain. This won’t be fast, and the papers are gonna be on it. But it looks like a good portion of the New Regency Alliance’s top people were at that shindig. The hydra lost quite a few heads, hopefully enough to bleed to death.”

The Commissioner left quietly and DG arched a brow at Cain. “Like his pa, huh?”

“Don’t go there, DG. I’ve got enough on my mind as it is.” Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose.

“At least you’re seeing it, as well. It might turn into nothing. It might turn into everything.” DG crossed her arms.

“Might is a lot like ‘if.’ Let’s stick to ‘is,’” he reminded her.


	23. Avoidance Dance

DG was running away. All right, hiding was more like it. Hiding, with a guard trailing her. At least the guard was quick and silent - one of the Shadow Squad, a woman named Marion, and DG was eternally grateful for her. If she had to have a guard when Cain was somewhere else, one informally-dressed woman was better than two uniformed men; a woman who could kill you a dozen ways, using just a spoon; a woman with a wicked sense of humor. DG could really get to like ‘Maid Marion’, even if the woman didn’t get that particular joke.

DG ran into the central palace garden, where Azkadellia sat on the wooden glider, pretending to read a book. In fact, she was watching Glitch and Raw sitting on the stone patio area, indian-style, facing each other. Gregory sat near Azkadellia, crunching on a beef bone of appropriate size. He was growing, and DG swore that if you stared at him long enough, you could see it. 

DG noticed Marion nod to her counterpart, Kayla, who was assigned to Azkadellia. The two circled to take up stations at opposite sides of the garden so they could pretty much see all areas between them.

DG flung herself down next to Az, making the glider swing back and forth.

“Mother?” Az looked at her sister’s face.

“Mother.” DG nodded. 

Wedding plans. DG absolutely refused to do the ‘Diana’ thing; she wanted something small and simple. Mother insisted there were dignitaries from neighboring realms that had to be invited or they would be insulted - a political disaster. She pointed out that they couldn’t hide from the public, as they served the people. There would have to be a public celebration - if not the wedding, itself - a public affair, where people could meet them and wish them well, and they could learn to smile and not kill anyone. DG hated the whole thing. Cain wasn’t too thrilled about the whole putting-on-a-show for strangers bit, himself, but he reasoned it was just one more aspect of royalty.

“What are they doing?” DG whispered, as she looked at Raw and Glitch sitting there, eyes closed.

“Meditating. Ambrose found a few texts on the practice and thought I should try it. I told him only if he and Raw could do it first,” Az explained. “At least it’s been amusing.”

“Breathe,” Glitch chanted.

“Raw not pass out yet.” 

“No, breathe cleansing breaths, nice and deep.” Glitch demonstrated.

Raw’s face scrunched oddly, but he did as told.

“Now clear your mind,” was the next instruction.

Raw opened one eye and gave Glitch a look. Az was biting her lips to keep a laugh from escaping.

“Just feel your breathing, your heartbeat… Let awareness and thought drift away.” 

DG couldn’t stop the giggle - really, she couldn’t, and Az couldn’t hold back once her sister started. The puppy wrapped himself around his bone, as if afraid the whole thing would result in him loosing his treat somehow.

Ambrose huffed and placed his fists on his hips from his seated position. “Well, that gets us nowhere.”

“Made Princess laugh.” Raw beamed. “She no laugh in long time.” 

Azkadellia hadn’t laughed in three weeks, to be exact, since the attack. She’d managed a few genuine smiles, but no laughter. It was a good feeling that washed over Raw.

“So…” Az managed to get control of herself once more. “What are you going to do about mother?”

“Compromise, of course. She gets to invite the dignitaries and royals she needs to, in order to keep our allies, and not a single one more. Only those invited will attend the wedding, meaning that, if they bring a hundred servants, cousins, sons and daughters, etc,etc,etc, they will not be welcome at the wedding and reception. This isn’t a spectacle, or something for curiosity-seekers. We’re still likely to end up with nearly two hundred guests.” DG let out a moan and buried her face in her hands. “That is just so… not us.”

Az looked at DG. “So plan your own small, intimate ceremony for the day before. Let it be the real ceremony, the one that counts with the registry and before God and family. Do what you want and invite who you wish. The next day, you do what you have to, for politics sake; have a nice party and you won’t so much mind the minor spectacle, because it isn’t what matters anymore.”

DG looked at her sister in surprise. This… was a really good idea.

“You are brilliant.” DG threw her arms around her sister.

“I try,” Azkadellia smirked.

“Of course, that means three days of wedding stuff… but it would be worth it. And we are so getting a honeymoon. And it isn’t going to be a tour of major cities and towns; it’s going to be the two of us, somewhere private, for at least a week.” DG had her jaw set.

“That’s the spirit.” Glitch stood up.


	24. Wedding Dance

In the end, the real ceremony was held in the East garden, where they had shared their second kiss. Wyatt Cain did wear a formal uniform, but not the ultra-formal costume he’d have to wear the next day. DG wore a very simple white gown of silk, with no embellishments and flowers were woven into her hair. She wore a two hundred year old diamond and sapphire bracelet from her mother’s collection, which covered old, borrowed, and blue. The dress was new, so that was covered.

Jeb Cain stood for his father, and Azkadellia was the Maid of honor. There were no other members of the wedding party. DG and Azkadellia carried roses and daisies from the very garden they stood in. Ahamo gave his daughter away with pride. In the O.Z that meant taking her half way down the isle, where Wyatt took her and they walked together to finish the journey, as in life.

The witnesses were only family and close friends, including Glitch and Raw, of course, and Commissioner Frank Garalli, the only other Tin Man from before the witch to survive. He was also becoming a close friend, despite Jeb’s knife. There were fifteen other guests. The Shadow Unit who had played such a part in making sure this day happened by keeping pretty much the whole wedding party alive.

The priest intoned ancient words, and while the vows weren’t the same as DG was used to hearing on the Other Side, they meant the same thing. Love, honor, cherish for all time. In truth DG wasn’t sure she remembered the words. She was so fixated on the man beside her. Platinum hair bright in the sun, his steel blue eyes were more blue at the moment, and filled with a love and pride she knew was reflected in her own.

DG struggled not to cry like the stereotypical bride. It would just be silly, no matter how the emotions clogged her throat. 

Before she knew it a simple gold band was placed on her finger, and she felt a momentary flash of guilt, as she slid the ring onto Wyatt’s hand, to sit in the place another had been for so long.

A part of her wondered if Wyatt was remembering his first wedding. She hoped Adora Cain approved in the afterlife. 

Then she was kissing the groom, and it wasn’t chaste or proper for a grand audience. It was true and real and full of love and hope. Ahamo’s false coughing finally broke the spell and they slid apart, glancing at him sheepishly, only to see Lavender elbow her husband in the ribs in a very un-regal gesture.

A small gathering a musicians had the honor of performing at the real wedding reception, or “family party”, as DG called it. They weren’t being received by anyone. 

There being more men than women present meant every female was swept up repeatedly. But DG only spared a dance for her father, Jeb and Frank. Other then those she danced with her husband alone. Her husband. It made her shiver and feel giddy. She looked over to see Glitch dancing with Marion, DG’s bodyguard, and her parents swaying together. Azkadellia was dancing gracefully in the arms of Jeb Cain. 

A slow waltz started up and she looked up at Wyatt. It was ‘their song’. The one they had first danced to so many months ago and she had become aware that their attraction was mutual.

And they danced. Oh how they danced.


	25. Lover’s Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

He actually carried her over the threshold of the cabin. It was one of the five they had vacationed in before. It was where they’d spend the next week pretending there weren’t four of Jeb’s men out there.

Of course, carrying her over the threshold in this case meant DG was flung over her husband’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Wyatt Cain should have known she was up to something when she wanted to ride with him for the day long journey. When she rode behind him the arms she wrapped around him tended to end in wandering hands. Little teases that made him groan and her chuckle. Nothing overtly embarrassing, as they did have those damn four guards with them. But erotic and frustrating all the same.

After a lunch break he decided to solve her teasing by making her ride in front of him. Admittedly not one of his smarter moves. She started shifting in the saddle, complaining about being saddle sore and ending up walking bowlegged. All her shifting was aimed backwards, deliberately rubbing against him. She’d even looked over her shoulder and winked at him.

Thus it was the moment they arrived at the cabins Wyatt dismounted and flung his new bride over his shoulder. When she protested and squiggled he’d smacked her on the bottom and marched her through the cabin doors. That was how DG Gale-Cain ended up being carried over the threshold on her honeymoon.

She was dropped unceremoniously in the middle of the bed.

“You are a devilish little tease. You’ve been tormenting me all blasted day, Darlin’, and now it’s my turn.” 

“There better be no plans for handcuffs. Cop or not…. This girl has had enough bondage to last several lifetimes.” DG glared, but there was a real fear in her eyes.

“I don’t know where you get your ideas.” He shook his head. “But there is gonna be payback.”

By the time they were both rid of their clothing DG was more than ready. She was not expecting to have Wyatt press her hands against the headboard.

“They move, I stop.” There was a wicked glint in his eye that made her shiver.

“You’re kidding me.” She objected.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

DG groaned and threw her head back against the pillow, fanning her hair out , a dark stain on the sheets.

Wyatt started at her feet, kissing each arch, nibbling along her ankle, nuzzling along her calf. She felt her hips rising as he worked his slow, torturous way up her thigh. It was all she could do to keep her hands where they were. Her arms shook with the effort. At her hip he nibbled a bit then stopped. DG’s eyes widened. She didn’t move her damn hands!

But then he started on the other leg, working his way slowly upward.

This was not fair! God, she wanted him. Right now. She was pretty sure she might even go over the edge from this slow agony.

He gently pushed her legs apart, and she was more than willing to accommodate. But then his mouth and fingers went to work, and she almost bucked him right off the bed. Her knuckles were white and she was certain she was going to leave permanent finger marks in the wood. 

She looked down her body to see him looking up at her as he worked his fingers in her, and he was sucking there and…. He stopped.

DG heard a pitiful whimper. Oh, that was her.

“You are evil.” She ground out through gritted teeth.

“You’ve been toying with me all day. We have about ten hours of dark left.”

She whimpered again. 

He explored every part of her body, more than once if she made the right noises. 

DG considered her left hip a stupid place for an erogenous zone, and the base of her sternum, and hell yeah, just under her right underarm.

She was a quivering mess by the time he finally kissed her. Hard and deep. She liked those two words. They could easily become her favorite words. 

She nipped his bottom lip. “Can I let go yet?”

Wyatt’s smirk should be illegal. It was a lethal weapon. “You can stop holding the headboard. But you can’t let go yet.”

“Bastard.” She dragged her fingers through his short hair digging the fingertips into the back of his neck. She’d show him hold on.

He shut her up with another kiss and… thankGodalmightyit’saboutfuckingtime!

His hips surged to meet hers, filling her with heat and hardness and this was too damned good to be real. 

She slid her hands down his back, feeling the slick of sweat there as she wrapped her legs around him.

Yes, just… like… that. Right there. She was unaware she was letting the words stream out of her mouth as she thought them. Wyatt’s foreplay had broke her brain.

And then she was off, shooting through the stars, feeling waves of bliss move through her as she cried out from the beauty of it.

She was aware of her Tin Man following after, trembling from holding back, himself.

He rolled them both, tucking her against him. He always seemed to think he’d crush her. Well, maybe he would after a little while, but a minute or two wouldn’t kill her.

“Now this is an adventure I could definitely get used to having.” She nipped her husband’s shoulder. 

“Are you going to behave now?” He asked as his breath started to slow.

“Hell no! I like the payback too much.” She laughed. 

“I love you, husband.” She liked that word too. Husband was nice.

“I love you, wife.” He answered back, knowing her fascination with the words.

They fell asleep, content in one another's arms. For now all was peaceful, they were bathed in happiness, and the world was theirs.

Tomorrow could take care of itself.

FIN


End file.
